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MOTHER. GOOSE 


IN 


PROSE 


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BY L. FRAHK BAUM 


Iffiisfrafedfiy MAXEIEED FARRIS H 

Indianapolis ■ fA.^4, 

THE BOBBS 'MERRILL COMPANY - 


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AUG 21 1905 

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Copyright 1897 

BY 

WAY and WILLIAMS 


Copyright 1901 

BY 

GEO. M. HILL CO. 


Copyright 1905 

BY 

THE BOBBS-MERRILL CO. 


PRESS OF 

BRAUNWORTH & CO. 
BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 
BROOKLYN, N. Y. 


Contents 


Introduction 9 

Sing a Song o' Sixpence 19 

The Story of Little Boy Blue 31 

The Cat and the Fiddle 45 

The Black Sheep 55 

Old King Cole 65 

Mistress Mary 75 

The Wond’rous Wise Man 89 

What Jack Horner Did 99 

The Man in the Moon 109 

The Jolly Miller 119 

The Little Man and His Little Gun 13 1 

Hickory, Dickory, Dock 14 1 

Little Bo-Peep 151 

The Story of Tommy Tucker 163 

Pussy-cat Mew 175 

How the Beggars Came to Town 183 

Tom, the Piper’s Son 199 

Humpty Dumpty 207 

The Woman Who Lived in a Shoe 221 

Little Miss Muffet 233 

Three Wise Men of Gotham - . 245 

Little Bun Rabbit 257 




























































































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Illustrations 


“There was a little man and he had a little gun” 

Frontispiece 

Little Boy Blue 

36 — 

The Black Sheep 

58- 

Old King Cole 

68 — 

The Wond’rous Wise Man 

92 

Jack Horner 

102 ( ~ 

The Man in the Moon 

112^ 

Little Bo-Peep 

156- 

Tommy Tucker 

166— 

Tom, the Piper’s Son 

200 

Humpty Dumpty 

212 1— 

Three Wise Men of Gotham 

248 



Introduction. 

N ONE of us, whether children or adults, needs an 
introduction to Mother Goose. Those things 
which are earliest impressed upon our minds 
cling to them the most tenaciously. The snatches 
sung in the nursery are never forgotten, nor are they 
ever recalled without bringing back with them myriads 
of slumbering feelings and half-forgotten images. 

We hear the sweet, low voice of the mother, 
singing soft lullabies to her darling, and see the kindly, 
wrinkled face of the grandmother as she croons the 
old ditties to quiet our restless spirits. One genera- 
tion is linked to another by the everlasting spirit of 
song; the ballads of the nursery follow us from child- 
hood to old age, and they are readily brought from 
memory’s recesses at any time to amuse our children 
or our grandchildren. 

The collection of jingles we know and love as 
the “Melodies of Mother Goose” are evidently drawn 
from a variety of sources. While they are, taken 
altogether, a happy union of rhyme, wit, pathos, satire 
and sentiment, the research after the author of each 
individual verse would indeed be hopeless. It would 
be folly to suppose them all the composition of uned- 
[ 9 ] 


Intro- 

duction 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


ucated old nurses, for many of them contain much 
reflection, wit and melody. It is said that Shelley 
wrote “ Pussy-Cat Mew,” and Dean Swift “ Little Bo- 
Peep,” and these assertions are as difficult to disprove 
as to prove. Some of the older verses, however, are 
doubtless offshoots from ancient Folk Lore songs, and 
have descended to us through many centuries. 

The connection of Mother Goose with the 
rhymes which bear her name is difficult to determine, 
and, in fact, three countries claim her for their own: 
France, England and America. 

About the year 1650 there appeared in circulation 
in London a small book, named “Rhymes of the 
Nursery; or Lulla-Byes for Children,” which contained 
many of the identical pieces that have been handed 
down to us; but the name of Mother Goose was evi- 
dently not then known. In this edition were the 
rhymes of “Little Jack Horner,” “Old King Cole,” 
“Mistress Mary,” “Sing a Song o’ Sixpence,” and 
“Little Boy Blue.” 

In 1697 Charles Perrault published in France a 
book of children’s tales entitled “Contes de ma Mere 
Oye,” and this is really the first time we find authentic 
record of the use of the name of Mother Goose, al- 
though Perrault’s tales differ materially from those we 
now know under this title. They comprised “The 
Sleeping Beauty,” “The Fairy,” “Little Red Riding- 
Hood,” “Blue Beard,” “Puss in Boots,” “Riquet with 
the Tuft,” “Cinderella,” and “Little Thumb;” eight 

[10] 


stories in all. On the cover of the book was depicted 
an old lady holding in her hand a distaff and sur- 
rounded by a group of children listening eagerly. Mr. 
Andrew Lang has edited a beautiful English edition 
of this work (Oxford, 1888). 

America bases her claim to Mother Goose upon 
the following statement, made by the late John Fleet 
Eliot, a descendant of Thomas Fleet, the printer: 

At the beginning of the eighteenth century there 
lived in Boston a lady named Eliza Goose (written 
also Vergoose and Vertigoose) who belonged to a 
wealthy family. Her eldest daughter, Elizabeth 
Goose (or Vertigoose), was married by Rev. Cotton 
Mather in 1715 to an enterprising and industrious 
printer named Thomas Fleet, and in due time gave 
birth to a son. Like most mothers-in-law in our 
day, the importance of Mrs. Goose increased with 
the appearance of her grandchild, and poor Mr. 
Fleet, half distracted with her endless nursery ditties, 
finding all other means fail, tried what ridicule could 
effect, and actually printed a book under the title 
“Songs of the Nursery; or, Mother Goose’s Melodies 
for Children.” On the title page was the picture 
of a goose with a very long neck and a mouth 
wide open, and below this, “Printed by T. Fleet, at 
his Printing House in Pudding Lane, 1719. Price, 
two coppers.” 

Mr. Wm. A. Wheeler, the editor of Hurd 8c 
Houghton’s elaborate edition of Mother Goose, (1870), 
[»] 


Intro- 

duction 


Mother 

Goose 

in Prose 


reiterated this assertion, and a writer in the Boston 
Transcript of June 17, 1864, says: “Fleet’s book 
was partly a reprint of an English collection of songs, 
(Barclay’s), and the new title was doubtless a compli- 
ment by the printer to his mother-in-law Goose for 
her contributions. She was the mother of sixteen 
children and a typical ‘Old Woman who lived in a 
Shoe.’ ” 

We may take it to be true that Fleet’s wife was 
of the Vergoose family, and that the name was often 
contracted to Goose. But the rest of the story is un- 
supported by any evidence whatever. In fact, all that 
Mr. Eliot knew of it was the statement of the late 
Edward A. Crowninshield, of Boston, that he had seen 
Fleet’s edition in the library of the American Anti- 
quarian Society. Repeated researches at Worcester 
having failed to bring to light this supposed copy, and 
no record of it appearing on any catalogue there, we 
may dismiss the entire story with the supposition that 
Mr. Eliot misunderstood the remarks made to him. 
Indeed, as Mr. William H. Whitmore points out in his 
clever monograph upon Mother Goose (Albany, 
1889), it is very doubtful whether in 1719 a Boston 
printer would have been allowed to publish such 
“ trivial ” rhymes. “ Boston children at that date,” 
says Mr. Whitmore, “were fed upon Gospel food, and 
it seems extremely improbable that an edition could 
have been sold.” 

Singularly enough, England’s claim to the vener- 
[12] 


able old lady is of about the same date as Boston’s. Intro- 
There lived in a town in Sussex, about the year 1704, Auction 
an old woman named Martha Gooch. She was a cap- 
ital nurse, and in great demand to care for newly- 
born babies; therefore, through long years of service 
as nurse, she came to be called Mother Gooch. This 
good woman had one peculiarity : she was accustomed 
to croon queer rhymes and jingles over the cradles of 
her charges, and these rhymes “ seemed so senseless and 
silly to the people who overheard them” that they 
began to call her “Mother Goose,” in derision, the 
term being derived from Queen Goosefoot, the mother 
of Charlemagne. The old nurse paid no attention to 
her critics, but continued to sing her rhymes as before; 
for, however much grown people might laugh at her, 
the children seemed to enjoy them very much, and 
not one of them was too peevish to be quieted and 
soothed by her verses. At one time Mistress Gooch 
was nursing a child of Mr. Ronald Barclay, a physician 
residing in the town, and he noticed the rhymes she 
sang and became interested in them. In time he 
wrote them all down and made a book of them, which 
it is said was printed by John Worthington & Son in 
the Strand, London, in 1712, under the name of “Ye 
Melodious Rhymes of Mother Goofe.” But even this 
story of Martha Gooch is based upon very meager and 
unsatisfactory evidence. 

The earliest English edition of Mother Goose’s 
Melodies that is absolutely authentic was issued by 

[13] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


John Newbury of London about the year 1760, and 
the first authentic American edition was a reprint of 
Newbury’s made by Isaiah Thomas of Worcester, 
Mass., in 1785. 

None of the earlier editions, however, contained 
all the rhymes so well known at the present day, since 
every decade has added its quota to the mass of jingles 
attributed to “Mother Goose.” Some of the earlier 
verses have become entirely obsolete, and it is well 
they have, for many were crude and silly and others' 
were coarse. It is simply a result of the greater refine- 
ment of modern civilization that they have been 
relegated to oblivion, while the real gems of the col- 
lection will doubtless live and grow in popular favor 
for many ages. 

While I have taken some pains to record the vari- 
ous claims to the origin of Mother Goose, it does not 
matter in the least whether she was in reality a myth, or 
a living Eliza Goose, Martha Gooch or the “Mere Oye” 
of Perrault. The songs that cluster around her name 
are what we love, and each individual verse appeals 
more to the childish mind than does Mother Goose 
herself. 

Many of these nursery rhymes are complete tales 
in themselves, telling their story tersely but com- 
pletely; there are others which are but bare sugges- 
tions, leaving the imagination to weave in the details 
of the story. Perhaps therein may lie part of their 
charm, but however that may be I have thought the 
[H] 


children might like the stories told at greater length, 
that they may dwell the longer upon their favorite 
heroes and heroines. 

For that reason I have written this book. 

In making the stories I have followed mainly the 
suggestions of the rhymes, and my hope is that the 
little ones will like them, and not find that they 
interfere with the fanciful creations of their own 
imaginations. 

L. FRANK BAUM. 


Intro- 

duction 


Chicago, Illinois, July, 1899, 












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Sing a Song o’ Sixpence 

Sing a song o’ sixpence, a handful of rye, 

Four-and-twenty blackbirds baked in a pie; 

When the pie was opened the birds began to sing, 

Was n’t that a dainty dish to set before the King? 

I F you have never heard the legend of Gilligren and Sing a 
the King’s pie you will scarcely understand the Song o' 
above verse; so 1 will tell you the whole story, Sixpence 
and then you will be able to better appreciate the 
rhyme. 

Gilligren was an orphan, and lived with an uncle 
and aunt who were very unkind to him. They cuffed 
him and scolded him upon the slightest provocation, 
and made his life very miserable indeed. Gilligren 
never rebelled against this treatment, but bore their 
cruelty silentiy and with patience, although often he 
longed to leave them and seek a home amongst kinder 
people. 

It so happened that when Gilligren was twelve 
years old the King died, and his son was to be pro- 
claimed King in his place, and crowned with great 
ceremony. People were flocking to London from all 
parts of the country, to witness the festivities, and the 
boy longed to go with them. 

[19] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


One evening he said to his uncle, 

“If I had sixpence I could make my fortune.” 

“Pooh! nonsense!” exclaimed his uncle, “a six- 
pence is a small thing. How then could you make a 
fortune from it?” 

“ That I cannot tell you,” replied Gilligren, “ but 
if you will give me the sixpence I will go to London, 
and not return until I am a rich man.” 

“The boy is a fool!” said his uncle, with anger; 
but the aunt spoke up quickly. 

“ Give him the money and let him go,” she said, 
“ and then we shall be well rid of him and no longer 
be obliged to feed and clothe him at our expense.” 

“Well,” said her husband, after a moment’s thought, 
“here is the money; but remember, this is all I shall 
ever give you, and when it is gone you must not come 
to me for more.” 

“Never fear,” replied Gilligren, joyfully, as he put 
the sixpence in his pocket, “ I shall not trouble you 
again.” 

The next morning he cut a short stick to assist 
him in walking, and after bidding good-bye to his 
uncle and aunt he started upon his journey to London. 

“ The money will not last him two days,” said the 
man, as he watched Gilligren go down the turnpike 
road, “and when it is gone he will starve to death.” 

“ Or he may fall in with people who will treat him 
worse than we did,” rejoined the woman, “and then 
he ’ll wish he had never left us.” 

[ao] 


But Gilligren, nothing dismayed by thoughts of Sing a 
the future, trudged bravely along the London road. ^ on g o' 
The world was before him, and the bright sunshine ^ x P ence 
glorified the dusty road and lightened the tips of the 
dark green hedges that bordered his path. At the end 
of his pilgrimage was the great city, and he never 
doubted he would find therein proper work and proper 
pay, and much better treatment than he was accus- 
tomed to receive. 

So, on he went, whistling merrily to while away 
the time, watching the sparrows skim over the fields, 
and enjoying to the full the unusual sights that met 
his eyes. At noon he overtook a carter, who divided 
with the boy his luncheon of bread and cheese, and 
for supper a farmer’s wife gave him a bowl of milk. 

When it grew dark he crawled under a hedge and slept 
soundly until dawn. 

The next day he kept steadily upon his way, and 
toward evening met a farmer with a wagon loaded 
with sacks of grain. 

“ Where are you going, my lad ? ” asked the man. 

“To London,” replied Gilligren, “to see the King 
crowned.” 

“Have you any money?” enquired the farmer. 

“ Oh yes,” answered Gilligren, “ I have a sixpence.” 

« If you will give me the sixpence,” said the man, 

“ I will give you a sack of rye for it.” 

“ What could I do with a sack of rye ? ” asked 
Gilligren, wonderingly. 


[ 2 i] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


« Take it to the mill, and get it ground into flour. 
With the flour you could have bread baked, and that 
you can sell.” 

“ That is a good idea,” replied Gilligren, “ so here 
is my sixpence, and now give me the sack of rye.” 

The farmer put the sixpence carefully into his 
pocket, and then reached under the seat of the wagon 
and drew out a sack, which he cast on the ground at 
the boy’s feet. 

“ There is your sack of rye,” he said, with a laugh. 

“ But the sack is empty ! ” remonstrated Gilligren. 

“ Oh, no; there is some rye in it.” 

“ But only a handful ! ” said Gilligren, when he had 
opened the mouth of the sack and gazed within it. 

“ It is a sack of rye, nevertheless,” replied the 
wicked farmer, “and I did not say how much rye 
there would be in the sack I would give you. Let 
this be a lesson to you never again to buy grain with- 
out looking into the sack ! ” and with that he whipped 
up his horses and left Gilligren standing in the road 
with the sack at his feet and nearly ready to cry at his 
loss. 

“ My sixpence is gone,” he said to himself, “ and I 
have received nothing in exchange but a handful of 
rye! How can I make my fortune with that? ” 

He did not despair, however, but picked up the 
sack and continued his way along the dusty road. 
Soon it became too dark to travel farther, and Gilli- 

[ 22 ] 


gren stepped aside into a meadow, where, lying down 
upon the sweet grass, he rolled the sack into a pillow 
for his head and prepared to sleep. 

The rye that was within the sack, however, hurt 
his head, and he sat up and opened the sack. 

“Why should I keep a handful of rye?” he 
thought, “ It will be of no value to me at all.” 

So he threw out the rye upon the ground, and 
rolling up the sack again for a pillow, was soon sound 
asleep. 

When he awoke the sun was shining brightly over 
his head and the twitter and chirping of many birds 
fell upon his ears. Gilligren opened his eyes and saw 
a large flock of blackbirds feeding upon the rye he 
had scattered upon the ground. So intent were they 
upon their feast they never noticed Gilligren at all. 

He carefully unfolded the sack, and spreading wide 
its opening threw it quickly over the flock of black- 
birds. Some escaped and flew away, but a great many 
were caught, and Gilligren put his eye to the sack and 
found he had captured four and twenty. He tied the 
mouth of the sack with a piece of twine that was in 
his pocket, and then threw the sack over his shoulder 
and began again his journey to London. 

« I have made a good exchange, after all,” he 
thought, “ for surely four and twenty blackbirds are 
worth more than a handful of rye, and perhaps even 
more than a sixpence, if I can find anyone who wishes 
to buy them.” 


Sing a 
Song o' 
Sixpence 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


He now walked rapidly forward, and about noon 
entered the great city of London. 

Gilligren wandered about the streets until he came 
to the King’s palace, where there was a great con- 
course of people and many guards to keep intruders 
from the gates. 

Seeing he could not enter from the front, the boy 
walked around to the rear of the palace and found 
himself near the royal kitchen, where the cooks and 
other servants were rushing around to hasten the pre- 
paration of the King’s dinner. 

Gilligren sat down upon a stone where he could 
watch them, and laying the sack at his feet was soon 
deeply interested in the strange sight. 

Presently a servant in the King’s livery saw him 
and came to his side. 

“ What are you doing here ? ” he asked, roughly. 

“ I am waiting to see the King,” replied Gilli- 
gren. 

“The King! The King never comes here,” said 
the servant; “and neither do we allow idlers about 
the royal kitchen. So depart at once, or I shall be 
forced to call a guard to arrest you.” 

Gilligren arose obediently and slung his sack over 
his shoulder. As he did so the birds that were within 
began to flutter. 

“ What have you in the sack ? ” asked the servant. 

“ Blackbirds,” replied Gilligren. 

“ Blackbirds ! ” echoed the servant, in surprise, 

[ 24 ] 


“well, that is very fortunate indeed. Come with me 
at once!” He seized the boy by the arm and drew 
him hastily along until they entered the great kitchen 
of the palace. 

“Here, Mister Baker!” the man called, excitedly, 
“ I have found your blackbirds ! ” 

A big, fat man who was standing in the middle 
of the kitchen with folded arms and a look of despair 
upon his round, greasy face, at once came toward 
them and asked eagerly, 

“The blackbirds? are you sure you can get 
them? ” 

“They are here already; the boy has a bag full of 
them.” 

“ Give them to me,” said the cook, who wore a 
square cap, that was shaped like a box, upon his head. 

“What do you want with them?” asked Gilligren. 

“ I want them for a pie for the King’s dinner,” 
answered Mister Baker; “His Majesty ordered the dish, 
and I have hunted all over London for the blackbirds, 
but could not find them. Now that you have brought 
them, however, you have saved me my position as 
cook, and perhaps my head as well.” 

“ But it would be cruel to put the beautiful birds 
in a pie,” remonstrated Gilligren, “and I shall not 
give them to you for such a purpose.” 

“Nonsense!” replied the cook, “the King has 
ordered it; he is very fond of the dish.” 

“ Still, you cannot have them,” declared the boy 

[25] 


Sing a 
Song o’ 
Sixpence 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


stoutly, “ the birds are mine, and I will not have them 
killed.” 

“But what can I do?” asked the cook, in per- 
plexity; “the King has ordered a blackbird pie, and 
your birds are the only blackbirds in London.” 

Gilligren thought deeply for a moment, and con- 
ceived what he thought to be a very good idea. If 
the sixpence was to make his fortune, then this was 
his great opportunity. 

“You can have the blackbirds on two conditions,” 
he said. 

“What are they?” asked the cook. 

“ One is that you will not kill the birds. The 
other condition is that you secure me a position in 
the King’s household.” 

“How can I put live birds in a pie?” enquired 
the cook. 

“Very easily, if you make the pie big enough to 
hold them. You can serve the pie after the King has 
satisfied his hunger with other dishes, and it will 
amuse the company to find live birds in the pie when 
they expected cooked ones.” 

“It is a risky experiment,” exclaimed the cook, 
“for I do not know the new King’s temper. But the 
idea may please His Majesty, and since you will not 
allow me to kill the birds, it is the best thing I can 
do. As for your other condition, you seem to be a 
very bright boy, and so I will have the butler take 


!>] 


you as his page, and you shall stand back of the Sing a 
King’s chair and keep the flies away while he eats.” S° n g o' 

The butler being called, and his consent secured, Spence 
the cook fell to making the crusts for his novel pie, 
while Gilligren was taken to the servants’ hall and 
dressed in a gorgeous suit of the King’s livery. 

When the dinner was served, the King kept look- 
ing for the blackbird pie, but he said nothing, and at 
last the pie was placed before him, its crusts looking 
light and brown, and sprigs of myrtle being stuck in 
the four corners to make it look more inviting. 

Although the King had already eaten heartily, he 
snjacked his lips when he saw this tempting dish, and 
picking up the carving- fork he pushed it quickly into 
the pie. 

At once the crust fell in, and all the four and 
twenty blackbirds put up their heads and began to 
look about them. And coming from the blackness of 
the pie into the brilliantly lighted room they thought 
they were in the sunshine, and began to sing merrily, 
while some of the boldest hopped out upon the table 
or began flying around the room. 

At first the good King was greatly surprised; but 
soon, appreciating the jest, he lay back in his chair and 
laughed long and merrily. And his courtiers and the 
fine ladies present heartily joined in the laughter, for 
they also were greatly amused. 

Then the King called for the cook, and when 

[* 7 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
hi Prose 


Mister Baker appeared, uncertain of his reception, and 
filled with many misgivings, His Majesty cried, 

“Sirrah! how came you to think of putting live 
birds in the pie?” 

The cook, fearing that the King was angry, an- 
swered, 

“May it please your Majesty, it was not my 
thought, but the idea of the boy who stands behind 
your chair.” 

The King turned his head, and seeing Gilligren, 
who looked very well in his new livery, he said, 

“You are a clever youth, and deserve a better 
position than that of a butler’s lade Hereafter y<ju 
shall be one of my own pages, and if you serve me 
faithfully I will advance your fortunes with your 
deserts.” 

And Gilligren did serve the King faithfully, and as 
he grew older acquired much honor and great wealth. 

“After all,” he used to say, “that sixpence made 
my fortune. And it all came about through such a 
small thing as a handful of rye ! ” 



I » 






N 







The Story of 
Little Boy Blue 


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The Story of Little Boy Blue 

Little Boy Blue, come blow your horn. 

The sheep ’s in the meadow, the cow ’s in the corn; 

Where’s the little boy that minds the sheep? 

He’s under the haystack, fast asleep! 

T HERE once lived a poor widow who supported The Story 
herself and her only son by gleaning in the 
fields the stalks of grain that had been missed y 
by the reapers. Her little cottage was at the foot of 
a beautiful valley, upon the edge of the river that 
wound in and out among the green hills; and 
although poor, she was contented with her lot, for 
her home was pleasant and her lovely boy was a con- 
stant delight to her. 

He had big blue eyes, and fair golden curls, and 
he loved his good mother very dearly, and was never 
more pleased than when she allowed him to help her 
with her work. 

And so the years passed happily away till the boy 
was eight years old, but then the widow fell sick, and 
their little store of money melted gradually away. 

“ I do n’t know what we shall do for bread,” she 
said, kissing her boy with tears in her eyes, “ for I am 
not yet strong enough to work, and we have no 
money left.” 

[31] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“But I can work,” answered the boy; “and 1 ’m 
sure if I go to the Squire up at the Hall he will give 
me something to do.” 

At first the widow was reluctant to consent to this, 
since she loved to keep her child at her side, but 
finally, as nothing else could be done, she decided to 
let him go to see the Squire. 

Being too proud to allow her son to go to the 
great house in his ragged clothes, she made him a new 
suit out of a pretty blue dress she had herself worn in 
happier times, and when it was finished and the boy 
dressed in it, he looked as pretty as a prince in a fairy 
tale. For the bright blue jacket set off his curls to 
good advantage, and the color just matched the blue of 
his eyes. His trousers were blue, also, and she took 
the silver buckles from her own shoes and put them 
on his, that he might appear the finer. And then 
she brushed his curls and placed his big straw hat upon 
them and sent him away with a kiss to see the Squire. 

It so happened that the great man was walking in 
his garden with his daughter Madge that morning, and 
was feeling in an especially happy mood, so that when 
he suddenly looked up and saw a little boy before 
him, he said, kindly, 

“Well, my child, what can I do for you?” 

“If you please, sir,” said the boy, bravely, although 
he was frightened at meeting the Squire face to face, 
“I want you to give me some work to do, so that I 
can earn money.” 

[32] 


“Earn money!” repeated the Squire, “why do you 
wish to earn money?” 

“To buy food for my mother, sir. We are very 
poor, and since she is no longer able to work for me I 
wish to work for her.” 

“But what can you do?” asked the Squire; “you 
are too small to work in the fields.” 

“I could earn something, sir, couldn’t I?” 

His tone was so pleading that mistress Madge was 
unable to resist it, and even the Squire was touched. 
The young lady came forward and took the boy’s hand 
in her own, and pressing back his curls, she kissed his 
fair cheek. 

“You shall be our shepherd,” she said, pleasantly, 
“and keep the sheep out of the meadows and the 
cows from getting into the corn. You know, father,” 
she continued, turning to the Squire, “it was only yes- 
terday you said you must get a boy to tend the sheep, 
and this little boy can do it nicely.” 

“Very well,” replied the Squire, “it shall be as 
you say, and if he is attentive and watchful he will be 
able to save me a good bit of trouble and so really 
earn his money.” 

Then he turned to the child and said, 

“Come to me in the morning, my little man, and 
I will give you a silver horn to blow, that you may 
call the sheep and the cows whenever they go astray. 
What is your name? ” 

“Oh, never mind his name, papa!” broke in the 
1 33 ] 


The Story 
of Little 
Boy Blue 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


Squire’s daughter; “I shall call him Little Boy Blue, 
since he is dressed in blue from head to foot, and his 
dress but matches his eyes. And you must give him a 
good wage, also, for surely no Squire before ever had 
a prettier shepherd boy than this.” 

“Very good,” said the Squire, cheerfully, as he 
pinched his daughter’s rosy cheek; “be watchful, Lit- 
tle Boy Blue, and you shall be well paid.” 

Then Little Boy Blue thanked them both very 
sweetly and ran back over the hill and into the valley 
where his home lay nestled by the river-side, to tell 
the good news to his mother. 

The poor widow wept tears of joy when she heard 
his story, and smiled when he told her that his name 
was to be Little Boy Blue. She knew the Squire was 
a kind master and would be good to her darling son. 

Early the next morning Little Boy Blue was at the 
Hall, and the Squire’s steward gave him a new silver 
horn, (hat glistened brightly in the sunshine, and a 
golden cord to fasten it around his neck. And then 
he was given charge of the sheep and the cows, and 
told to keep them from straying into the meadow- 
lands and the fields of grain. 

It was not hard work, but just suited to Little Boy 
Blue’s age, and he was watchful and vigilant and made 
a very good shepherd boy indeed. His mother needed 
food no longer, for the Squire paid her son liberally 
and the Squire’s daughter made a favorite of the small 
shepherd and loved to hear the call of his silver horn 
[3 4 ] 


echoing amongst the hills. Even the sheep and the 
cows were fond of him, and always obeyed the sound 
of his horn; therefore the Squire’s corn thrived finely, 
and was never trampled. 

Little Boy Blue was now very happy, and his 
mother was proud and contented and began to im- 
prove in health. After a few weeks she became strong 
enough to leave the cottage and walk a little in the 
fields each day; but she could not go far, because her 
limbs were too feeble to support her long, so the most 
she could attempt was to walk as far as the stile to 
meet Little Boy Blue as he came home from work in 
the evening. Then she would lean on his shoulder 
and return to the cottage with him, and the boy was 
very glad he could thus support his darling mother 
and assist her faltering steps. 

But one day a great misfortune came upon them-, 
since it is true that no life can be so happy but that 
sorrow will creep in to temper it. 

Little Boy Blue came homeward one evening very 
light of heart and whistled merrily as he walked, for 
he thought he should find his mother awaiting him at 
the stile and a good supper spread upon the table in 
the little cottage. But when he came to the stile his 
mother was not in sight, and in answer to his call a 
low moan of pain reached his ears. 

Little Boy Blue sprang over the stile and found 
lying upon the ground his dear mother, her face white 
and drawn with suffering, and tears of anguish running 
[ 35 ] 


The Story 
of Little 
Boy Blue 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


down her cheeks. For she had slipped upon the stile 
and fallen, and her leg was broken ! 

Little Boy Blue ran to the cottage for water and 
bathed the poor woman’s face, and raised her head that 
she might drink. There were no neighbors, for the 
cottage stood all alone by the river, so the child was 
obliged to support his mother in his arms as best he 
could while she crawled painfully back to the cottage. 
Fortunately, it was not far, and at last she was safely 
laid upon her bed. Then Little Boy Blue began to 
think what he should do next. 

“ Can I leave you alone while I go for the doctor, 
mamma?” he asked, anxiously, as he held her clasped 
hands tightly in his two little ones. His mother drew 
him towards her and kissed him. 

“Take the boat, dear,” she said, “and fetch the 
doctor from the village. I shall be patient till you 
return.” 

Little Boy Blue rushed away to the river bank and 
unfastened the little boat; and then he pulled sturdily 
down the river until he passed the bend and came to 
the pretty village below. When he had found the 
doctor and told of his mother’s misfortune, the good 
man promised to attend him at once, and very soon 
they were seated in the boat and on their way to the 
cottage. 

It was very dark by this time, but Little Boy Blue 
knew every turn and bend in the river, and the doctor 
helped him pull at the oars, so that at last they came 
[ 36 ] 



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to the place where a faint light twinkled through the 
cottage window. They found the poor woman in 
much pain, but the doctor quickly set and bandaged 
her leg, and gave her some medicine to ease her suffer- 
ing. It was nearly midnight when all was finished and 
the doctor was ready to start back to the village. 

“Take good care of your mother,” he said to the 
boy, “ and do n’t worry about her, for it is not a bad 
break and the leg will mend nicely in time; but she 
will be in bed many days, and you must nurse her as 
well as you are able.” 

All through the night the boy sat by the bedside, 
bathing his mother’s fevered brow and ministering to 
her wants. And when the day broke she was resting 
easily and the pain had left her, and she told Little 
Boy Blue he must go to his work. 

“ For,” said she, “ more than ever now we need 
the money you earn from the Squire, as my misfortune 
will add to the expenses of living, and we have the 
doctor to pay. Do not fear to leave me, for I shall 
rest quietly and sleep most of the time while you are 
away.” 

Little Boy Blue did not like to leave his mother all 
alone, but he knew of no one he could ask to stay 
with her; so he placed food and water by her bedside, 
and ate a little breakfast himself, and started off to 
tend his sheep. 

The sun was shining brightly, and the birds sang 
sweetly in the trees, and the crickets chirped just as 

[- 37 ] 


The Story 
of Little 
Boy Blue 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


merrily as if this great trouble had not come to Little 
Boy Blue to make him sad. 

But he went bravely to his work, and for several 
hours he watched carefully; and the men at work in 
the fields, and the Squire’s daughter, who sat embroid- 
ering upon the porch of the great house, heard often 
the sound of his horn as he called the straying sheep 
to his side. 

But he had not slept the whole night, and he was 
tired with his long watch at his mother’s bedside, and 
so in spite of himself the lashes would droop occasion- 
ally over his blue eyes, for he was only a child, and 
children feel the loss of sleep more than older people. 

Still, Little Boy Blue had no intention of sleeping 
while he was on duty, and bravely fought against the 
drowsiness that was creeping over him. The sun shone 
very hot that day, and he walked to the shady side of 
a big haystack and sat down upon the ground, leaning 
his back against the stack. 

The cows and sheep were quietly browsing near 
him, and he watched them earnestly for a time, listen- 
ing to the singing of the birds, and the gentle tinkling 
of the bells upon the wethers, and the far-away songs 
of the reapers that the breeze brought to his ears. 
And before he knew it the blue eyes had closed fast, 
and the golden head lay back upon the hay, and 
Little Boy Blue was fast asleep and dreaming that his 
mother was well again and had come to the stile to 
meet him. 


[38] 


The sheep strayed near the edge of the meadow 
and paused, waiting for the warning sound of the horn. 
And the breeze carried the fragrance of the growing 
corn to the nostrils of the browsing cows and tempted 
them nearer and nearer to the forbidden feast. But 
the silver horn was silent, and before long the cows 
were feeding upon the Squire’s pet cornfield and the 
sheep were enjoying themselves amidst the juicy grasses 
of the meadows. 

The Squire himself was returning from a long, 
weary ride over his farms, and when he came to the 
cornfield and saw the cows trampling down the grain 
and feeding upon the golden stalks he was very angry. 

“ Little Boy Blue ! ” he cried ; “ ho ! Little Boy 
Blue, come blow your horn 1 ” But there was no 
reply. He rode on a way and now discovered that 
the sheep were deep within the meadows, and that 
made him more angry still. 

« Here, Isaac,” he said to a farmer’s lad who 
chanced to pass by, “ where is Little Boy Blue ? ” 

“ He ’s under the hay-stack, your honor, fast 
asleep ! ” replied Isaac with a grin, for he had passed 
that way and seen that the boy was lying asleep. 

“Will you go and wake him?” asked the Squire; 
“ for he must drive out the sheep and the cows before 
they do more damage.” 

“ Not I,” replied Isaac, ‘f if I wake him he ’ll surely 
cry, for he is but a baby, and not fit to mind the 
sheep. But I myself will drive them out for your 
[ 39 ] 


The Story 
of Little 
Boy Blue 


Mother honor,” and away he ran to do so, thinking that now 
Goose the Squire would give him Little Boy Blue’s place, 
in Prose an( j make him the shepherd boy, for Isaac had long 
coveted the position. 

The Squire’s daughter, hearing the angry tones of 
her father’s voice, now came out to see what was 
amiss, and when she heard that Little Boy Blue had 
failed in his trust she was deeply grieved, for she had 
loved the child for his pretty ways. 

The Squire dismounted from his horse and came to 
where the boy was lying. 

“ Awake ! ” said he, shaking him by the shoulder, 
« and depart from my lands, for you have betrayed my 
trust, and let the sheep and the cows stray into the 
fields and meadows ! ” 

Little Boy Blue started up at once and rubbed his 
eyes; and then he did as Isaac prophesied, and began 
to weep bitterly, for his heart was sore that he had 
failed in his duty to the good Squire and so forfeited 
his confidence. 

But the Squire’s daughter was moved by the child’s 
tears, so she took him upon her lap and comforted 
him, asking, 

“Why did you sleep, Little Boy Blue, when you 
should have watched the cows and the sheep ? ” 

“ My mother has broken her leg,” answered the 
boy, between his sobs, “ and I did not sleep all last 
night, but sat by her bedside nursing her. And I tried 
hard not to fall asleep, but could not help myself; 

C40] 


and oh, Squire ! I hope you will forgive me this once, 
for my poor mother’s sake ! ” 

“ Where does your mother live ? ” asked the Squire, 
in a kindly tone, for he had already forgiven Little 
Boy Blue. 

“ In the cottage down by the river,” answered the 
child; “and she is all alone, for there is no one near to 
help us in our trouble.” 

“ Come,” said Mistress Madge, rising to her feet and 
taking his hand; “lead us to your home, and we will 
see if we cannot assist your poor mother.” 

So the Squire and his daughter and Little Boy 
Blue all walked down to the little cottage, and the 
Squire had a long talk with the poor widow. And 
that same day a big basket of dainties was sent to the 
cottage, and Mistress Madge bade her own maid go 
to the widow and nurse her carefully until she 
recovered. 

So that after all Little Boy Blue did more for his 
dear mother by falling asleep than he could had he 
kept wide awake; for after his mother was well again 
the Squire gave them a pretty cottage to live in very 
near to the great house itself, and the Squire’s daughter 
was ever afterward their good friend, and saw that 
they wanted for no comforts of life. 

And Little Boy Blue did not fall asleep again at 
his post, but watched the cows and the sheep faithfully 
for many years, until he grew up to manhood and had 
a farm of his own. 

[4i ] 


The Story 
of Little 
Boy Blue 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


He always said his mother’s accident had brought 
him good luck, but I think it was rather his own 
loving heart and his devotion to his mother that made 
him friends. For no one is afraid to trust a boy who 
loves to serve and care for his mother. 




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The Cat and the Fiddle 


Hey, diddle, diddle, 

The cat and the fiddle. 

The cow jumped over the moon! 

The little dog laughed 
To see such sport, 

And the dish ran off with the spoon! 

P ERHAPS you think this verse is all nonsense, and 
that the things it mentions could never have 
happened; but they did happen, as you will 
understand when I have explained them all to you 
clearly. 

Little Bobby was the only son of a small farmer 
who lived out of town upon a country road. Bobby’s 
mother looked after the house and Bobby’s father took 
care of the farm, and Bobby himself, who was not very 
big, helped them both as much as he was able. 

It was lonely upon the farm, especially when his 
father and mother were both busy at work, but the 
boy had one way to amuse himself that served to pass 
many an hour when he would not otherwise have 
known what to do. He was very fond of music, and 
his father one day brought him from the town a small 
fiddle, or violin, which he soon learned to play upon. 
I don’t suppose he was a very fine musician, but the 
[ 45 ] 


The Cat 
and the 
Fiddle 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


tunes he played pleased himself, as well as his father 
and mother, and Bobby’s fiddle soon became his con- 
stant companion. 

One day in the warm summer the farmer and his 
wife determined to drive to the town to sell their 
butter and eggs and bring back some groceries in 
exchange for them, and while they were gone Bobby 
was to be left alone. 

“We shall not be back till late in the evening,” 
said his mother, “ for the weather is too warm to drive 
very fast. But I have left you a dish of bread and 
milk for your supper, and you must be a good boy 
and amuse yourself with your fiddle until we return.” 

Bobby promised to be good and look after the 
house, and then his father and mother climbed into 
the wagon and drove away to the town. 

The boy was not entirely alone, for there was the 
big black tabby-cat lying upon the floor in the 
kitchen, and the little yellow dog barking at the 
wagon as it drove away, and the big moolie-cow low- 
ing in the pasture down by the brook. Animals are 
often very good company, and Bobby did not feel 
nearly as lonely as he would had there been no living 
thing about the house. 

Besides he had some work to do in the garden, 
pulling up the weeds that grew thick in the carrot- 
bed, and when the last faint sounds of the wheels had 
died away he went into the garden and began his task. 

The little dog went too, for dogs love to be with 
[46] 


people and to watch what is going on; and he sat 
down near Bobby and cocked up his ears and wagged 
his tail and seemed to take a great interest in the 
weeding. Once in a while he would rush away to 
chase a butterfly or bark at a beetle that crawled 
through the garden, but he always came back to the 
boy and kept near his side. 

By and by the cat, which found it lonely in the 
big, empty kitchen, now that Bobby’s mother was 
gone, came walking into the garden also, and lay 
down upon a path in the sunshine and lazily watched 
the boy at his work. The dog and the cat were good 
friends, having lived together so long that they did 
not care to fight each other. To be sure Towser, as 
the little dog was called, sometimes tried to tease 
pussy, being himself very mischievous; but when the 
cat put out her sharp claws and showed her teeth, 
Towser, like a wise little dog, quickly ran away, and 
so they managed to get along in a friendly manner. 

By the time the carrot-bed was all weeded, the 
sun was sinking behind the edge of the forest and the 
new moon rising in the east, and now Bobby began 
to feel hungry and went into the house for his dish of 
bread and milk. 

“ I think I ’ll take my supper down to the brook,” 
he said to himself, “and sit upon the grassy bank 
while I eat it. And I ’ll take my fiddle, too, and 
play upon it to pass the time until father and mother 
come home.” 


The Cat 
and the 
Fiddle 


[ 47 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


It was a good idea, for down by the brook it was 
cool and pleasant; so Bobby took his fiddle under his 
arm and carried his dish of bread and milk down to 
the bank that sloped to the edge of the brook. It 
was rather a steep bank, but Bobby sat upon the edge, 
and placing his fiddle beside him, leaned against a 
tree and began to eat his supper. 

The little dog had followed at his heels, and the 
cat also came slowly walking after him, and as Bobby 
ate, they sat one on either side of him and looked 
earnestly into his face as if they too were hungry. So 
he threw some of the bread to Towser, who grabbed 
it eagerly and swallowed it in the twinkling of an eye. 
And Bobby left some of the milk in the dish for the 
cat, also, and she came lazily up and drank it in a 
dainty, sober fashion, and licked both the dish and 
spoon until no drop of the milk was left. 

Then Bobby picked up his fiddle and tuned it and 
began to play some of the pretty tunes he knew. 
And while he played he watched the moon rise higher 
and higher until it was reflected in the smooth, still 
water of the brook. Indeed, Bobby could not tell 
which was the plainest to see, the moon in the sky or 
the moon in the water. The little dog lay quietly on 
one side of him, and the cat softly purred upon the 
other, and even the moolie-cow was attracted by the 
music and wandered near until she was browsing the 
grass at the edge of the brook. 

After a time, when Bobby had played all the tunes 

[ 43 ] 


he knew, he laid the fiddle down beside him, near to 
where the cat slept, and then he lay down upon the 
bank and began to think. 

It is very hard to think long upon a dreamy sum- 
mer night without falling asleep, and very soon 
Bobby’s eyes closed and he forgot all about the dog 
and the cat and the cow and the fiddle, and dreamed 
he was Jack the Giant Killer and was just about to 
slay the biggest giant in the world. 

And while he dreamed, the cat sat up and yawned 
and stretched herself, and then began wagging her 
long tail from side to side and watching the moon that 
was reflected in the water. 

But the fiddle lay just behind her, and as she 
moved her tail, she drew it between the strings of the 
fiddle, where it caught fast. Then she gave her tail a 
jerk and pulled the fiddle against the tree, which 
made a loud noise. This frightened the cat greatly, 
and not knowing what was the matter with her tail, 
she started to run as fast as she could. But still the 
fiddle clung to her tail, and at every step it bounded 
along and made such a noise that she screamed with 
terror. And in her fright she ran straight towards the 
cow, which, seeing a black streak coming at her, and 
hearing the racket made by the fiddle, became also 
frightened and made such a jump to get out of the 
way that she jumped right across the brook, leaping 
over the very spot where the moon shone in the 
water ! 


The Cat 
and the 
Fiddle 


[49] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


Bobby had been awakened by the noise, and 
opened his eyes in time to see the cow jump; and at 
first it seemed to him that she had actually jumped 
over the moon in the sky, instead of the one in the 
brook. 

The dog was delighted at the sudden excitement 
caused by the cat, and ran barking and dancing along 
the bank, so that he presently knocked against the 
dish, and behold! it slid down the bank, carrying the 
spoon with it, and fell with a splash into the water of 
the brook. 

As soon as Bobby recovered from, his surprise he 
ran after the cat, which had raced to the house, and 
soon came to where the fiddle lay upon the ground, 
it having at last dropped from the cat’s tail. He 
examined it carefully, and was glad to find it was 
not hurt, in spite of its rough usage. And then he 
had to go across the brook and drive the cow back 
over the little bridge, and also to roll up his sleeve 
and reach into the water to recover the dish and the 
spoon. 

Then he went back to the house and lighted a 
lamp, and sat down to compose a new tune before his 
father and mother returned. 

The cat had recovered from her fright and lay 
quietly under the stove, and Towser sat upon the 
floor panting, with his mouth wide open, and looking 
so comical that Bobby thought he was actually laugh- 
ing at the whole occurrence. 

[50] 


And these were the words to the tune that Bobby 
composed that night: 


The Cat 
and the 
Fiddle 


Hey, diddle, diddle, 

The cat and the fiddle, 

The cow jumped over the moon! 

The little dog laughed 
To see such sport, 

And the dish ran away with the spoon! 


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The Black Sheep 

Black sheep, black sheep, have you any wool? 

Yes, my little master, three bags full; 

One for my master and one for his dame. 

And one for the little boy that lives in the lane, 

I T was a bright spring day, and the sun shone very The 
warm and pleasant over the pastures, where the 
new grass was growing so juicy and tender that ^ 
all the sheep thought they had never tasted anything 
so delicious. 

The sheep had had a strange experience that 
morning, for the farmer had taken them down to the 
brook and washed them, and then he tied their legs 
together and laid them on the grass and clipped all 
the heavy, soft wool from their bodies with a great , 
pair of shears. 

The sheep did not like this very well, for every 
once in a while the shears would pull the wool and 
hurt them; and when they were sheared they felt 
very strange, for it was almost as if someone took off 
all your clothes and let you run around naked. None 
of them were in a very good temper this morning, 
although the sun shone so warmly and the grass was 
so sweet, and as they watched the farmer and his man 
[ 55 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


carry their wool up to the house in great bags, the 
old ram said, crossly, 

“ I hope they are satisfied, now that they have 
stolen from us all our soft, warm fleece.” 

“What are they going to do with it?” asked one 
of the sheep. 

“ Oh, they will spin it into threads and make coats 
for the men and dresses for the women. For men are 
such strange creatures that no wool grows on them at 
all, and that is why they selfishly rob us of our fleece 
that they may cover their own skinny bodies! ” 

“ It must be horrid to be a man,” said the Black 
Sheep, “ and not to have any wool grow on you at 
all. I ’m sorry for that little boy that lives in the 
lane, for he will never be able to keep warm unless 
we give him some of our wool.” 

“ But what a shame it is,” continued the ram, “for 
the farmer to steal all the wool from iis when we have 
taken all the trouble to grow it! ” 

“ I do n’t mind,” bleated a young lamb named 
Frisky, as it kicked up its heels and gambolled about 
upon the grass; “it ’s nice to have all that heavy wool 
cut off my back, for I sha’ n’t have to carry it around 
wherever I go.” 

“Oh, indeed!” sneered the ram, “you like it, do 
you? Have you any idea what you look like, all 
sheared down to your skin? How would you like to 
have someone come along and see you, now that you 
are all head and legs? ” 

[ 56 ] 


“Oh, I wouldn’t mind,” said the lamb again; “I 
shall grow more wool by winter-time, and I ’m sure I 
do n’t look any worse than you do.” 

Some of the sheep looked at the ram and began to 
titter, for he was old and thin, and looked very com- 
ical indeed without any wool. And this made him so 
angry that he went off by himself and began eating 
grass, and would not speak to the others at all. 

“ I do n’t know why sheep should feel badly about 
having their fleeces cut,” remarked the Black Sheep, 
thoughtfully, “for the farmer is very kind to us, and 
so is his dame, and I am glad my wool serves to keep 
them warm in the winter. For before the snow 
comes our wool will grow out again, and we shall not 
be any the worse for our loss.” 

“ What do those people who have n’t any sheep do 
for clothes? ” asked the lamb. 

« I ’m sure I do n’t know. They must nearly 
freeze in the winter. Perhaps the ram can tell us.” 

But the ram was still angry, and refused to say 
anything, so the sheep stopped talking and began 
to scatter over the pasture and eat the tender, new 
grass. 

By and by the Black Sheep wandered near the 
lane, and looking up, saw the little boy watching it 
through the bars. 

“ Good morning, Black Sheep,” said the boy; “why 
do you look so funny this morning?” 

“ They have cut off my wool,” answered the sheep. 

[ 57 ] 


The 

Black 

Sheep 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“ What will they do with it, Black Sheep ? ” en- 
quired the little boy. 

“ They will make coats of it, to keep themselves 
warm.” 

“I wish I had some wool,” said the boy, “for I 
need a new coat very badly, and mamma is so poor 
she cannot buy me one.” 

“That is too bad,” replied the Black Sheep; “but 
I shall have more wool by and by, and then I will 
give you a bagful to make a new coat from.” 

“ Will you really ? ” asked the boy, looking very 
much pleased. 

“ Indeed I will,” answered the sheep, “ for you are 
always kind and have a pleasant word for me. So 
you watch until my wool grows again, and then you 
shall have your share of it.” 

“Oh, thank you!” said the boy, and he ran away 
to tell his mother what the Black Sheep had said. 

When the farmer came into the field again the 
Black Sheep said to him, 

“ Master, how many bags of wool did you cut 
from my back? ” 

“Two bags full,” replied the farmer; “and it was 
very nice wool indeed.” 

“ If I grow three bags full the next time, may I 
have one bag for myself? ” asked the sheep. 

“Why, what could you do with a bag of wool?” 
questioned the farmer. 


[ 58 ] 



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“ I want to give it to the little boy that lives in 
the lane. He is very poor and needs a new coat.” 

“Very well,” answered the master; “if you can 
grow three bags full I will give one to the little boy.” 

So the Black Sheep began to grow wool, and tried 
in every way to grow the finest and heaviest fleece in 
all the flock. She always lay in the sunniest part of the 
pastures, and drank from the clearest part of the 
brook, and ate only the young and juicy shoots of 
grass and the tenderest of the sheep-sorrel. And each 
day the little boy came to the bars and looked at the 
sheep and enquired how the wool was growing. 

“I am getting along finely,” the Black Sheep 
would answer, “ for not one sheep in the pasture has 
so much wool as I have grown already.” 

“Can I do anything to help you?” asked the little 
boy. 

“Not that I think of,” replied the sheep, “unless 
you could get me a little salt. I believe salt helps the 
wool to grow.” 

So the boy ran to the house and begged his 
mother for a handful of salt, and then he came back 
to the bars, where the Black Sheep licked it out of 
his hand. 

Day by day the wool on the sheep grew longer 
and longer, and even the old ram noticed it and said, 

“You are foolish to grow so much wool, for the 
farmer will cut it all off, and it will do you no good. 
Now I am growing just as little as possible, for since 
[ 59 ] 


The 

Black 

Sheep 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


he steals what I have I am determined he shall get 
very little wool from my back.” 

The Black Sheep did not reply to- this, for she 
thought the old ram very ill-tempered and selfish, and 
believed he was doing wrong not to grow more wool. 

Finally the time came to shear the sheep again, 
and the farmer and his man came into the pasture to 
look at them, and were surprised to see what a fine, 
big fleece the Black Sheep had grown. 

“ There will be three bagsful at the least,” said 
the master, “ and I will keep my promise and give 
one to the little boy in the lane. But, my goodness! 
how scraggly and poor the old ram looks. There is 
scarcely any wool on him at all. I think I must sell 
him to the butcher!” 

And, in truth, although the ram kicked and strug- 
gled and bleated with rage, they tied his legs and put 
him into the cart and carried him away" to the butcher. 
And that was the last the sheep ever saw of him. 

But the Black Sheep ran up to the bars by the lane 
and waited with a glad heart till the little boy came. 
When he saw the sheep waiting for him he asked, 

“Black Sheep, Black Sheep, have you any wool?” 

And the sheep replied, 

“Yes my little master, three bags full!” 

“That is fine!” said the boy; “but who are the 
three bags for? ” 


[60] 


<c One for my master, one for his dame, 

And one for the little boy that lives in the lane/’ 

“Thank you, Black Sheep,” said the little boy; 
“you are very kind, and I shall always think of you 
when I wear my new coat.” 

The next day the sheep were all sheared, and the 
Black Sheep’s fleece .made three big bagsful. The 
farmer kept his promise and carried one bag to the 
little boy that lived in the lane, and the wool was so 
soft and so heavy that there was enough not only for 
the new coat, but to make his mother a warm dress 
as well. 

The Black Sheep was very proud and happy when 
the mother and her little boy came down to the bars 
and showed the new clothes that had been made from 
the wool. 

“ This pays me for all my trouble,” said the Black 
Sheep, and the little boy reached his hand through the 
bars and patted her gently upon the head. 


The 

Black 

Sheep 


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Old King Cole 

Old King Cole was a merry old soul. 

And a merry old soul was he; 

He called for his pipe and he called for his bowl 
And he called for his fiddlers three. 

O LD KING COLE was not always a king, nor Old 
was he born a member of any royal family, ^ng 
It was only chance — “hard luck” he used 
to call it — that made him a king at all. 

He had always been a poor man, being the son of 
an apple peddler, who died and left him nothing but 
a donkey and a fiddle. But that was enough for 
Cole, who never bothered his head about the world’s 
goods, but took things as they came and refused to 
worry about anything. 

So, when the house he lived in, and the furniture, 
and even the apple-cart were sold to pay his father’s 
debts, and he found himself left with the old fiddle 
that nobody wanted and the old donkey that no one 
would have — it being both vicious and unruly — he 
uttered no word of complaint. He simply straddled 
the donkey and took the fiddle under his arm and 
rode out into the world to seek his fortune. 

When he came to a village he played a merry tune 

[65] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


upon the fiddle and sang a merry song with it, and 
the people gave him food most willingly. There was 
no trouble about a place to sleep, for if he was denied 
a bed he lay down with the donkey in a barn, or even 
on the village green, and making a pillow of the don- 
key’s neck he slept as soundly as anyone could in a 
bed of down. 

And so he continued riding along and playing 
upon his fiddle for many years, until his head grew 
bald and his face was wrinkled and his bushy eyebrows 
became as white as snow. But his eyes never lost their 
merry twinkle, and he was just as fat and hearty as in 
his younger days, while, if you heard him singing his 
songs and scraping upon the old fiddle, you would 
know at once his heart was as young as ever. 

He never guided the donkey, but let the beast go 
where it would, and so it happened that at last they 
came to Whatland, and entered one day the city where 
resided the King of that great country. 

Now, even as Cole rode in upon his donkey the 
King of Whatland lay dying in his palace, surrounded 
by all the luxury of the court. And as he left no 
heir, and was the last of the royal line, the councilors 
and wise men of Whatland were in a great quandary 
as to who should succeed him. But finally they be- 
thought themselves of the laws of the land, and upon 
looking up the records they found in an old book a 
law that provided for just such a case as this. 

“ If the King dies,” so read the law, “ and there be 

[ 66 ] 


no one to succeed to the throne, the prime minister Old 
shall be blinded and led from the palace into the main Km S 
street of the city. And he shall stretch out his arms ^ 06 
and walk about, and the first person he touches shall 
be crowned as King of the land.” 

The councilors were greatly pleased when they 
found this law, for it enabled them to solve the prob- 
lem that confronted them. So when the King had 
breathed his last they blindfolded the prime minister 
and led him forth from the palace, and he began walk- 
ing about with outstretched arms seeking someone to 
touch. 

Of course the people knew nothing of this law, nor 
even that the old King was dead, and seeing the prime 
minister groping about blindfolded they kept out of 
his way, fearing they might be punished if he stum- 
bled against them. But Cole was then riding along 
on the donkey, and did not even know it was the 
prime minister who was feeling about in such a funny 
way. So he began to laugh, and the minister, who 
had by this time grown tired of the game, heard 
the laugh and came toward the stranger and touched 
him, and immediately all the wise men and the coun- 
cilors fell down before him and hailed him as King 
of Whatland ! 

Thus did the wandering fiddler become King 
Cole, and you may be sure he laughed more merrily 
than ever when they explained to him his good 
fortune. 


[67] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


They carried him within the palace and dressed 
him in purple and fine linen, and placed a crown of 
gold upon his bald head and a jeweled scepter in his 
wrinkled hand, and all this amused old King Cole very 
much. When he had been led to the great throne- 
room and placed upon the throne of gold (where the 
silken cushions felt very soft and pleasant after his 
long ride upon the donkey’s sharp back) the courtiers 
all knelt before him and asked what commands he 
wished to give, since everyone in the kingdom must 
now obey his slightest word. 

“ Oh well,” said the new King, “ I think the first 
thing I would like is my old pipe. You ’ll find it in 
the pocket of the ragged coat I took off - .” 

One of the officers of the court at once ran for the 
pipe, and when it was brought King Cole filled it 
with tobacco from his greasy pouch and lighted it, and 
you can imagine what a queer sight it was to see the 
fat King sitting upon the rich throne, dressed in silks 
and satins and a golden crown, and smoking at the 
same time an old black pipe! 

The councilors looked at each other in dismay, 
and the ladies of the court sneezed and coughed and 
seemed greatly shocked, and all this pleased old King 
Cole so much that he lay back in his throne and 
roared with laughter. 

Then the prime minister came forward very gravely, 
and bowing low he said, 

“ May it please your Majesty, it is not the custom 
[ 68 ] 



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of Kings to smoke a pipe while seated upon the Old 
throne.” King 

“ But it is my custom,” answered Cole. 

“It is impolite, and — unkingly!” ventured the 
minister. 

“ Now, see here, old fellow,” replied his Majesty, 

“I didn’t ask to be King of this country; it’s all 
your own doing. All my life I have smoked when- 
ever I wished, and if I can’t do as I please here, why, 

I won’t be king — so there!” 

“ But you must be the King, your Majesty, whether 
you want to or not. The law says so.” 

“If that’s the case,” returned the King, “I can do 
as I please in other things. So you just run and get 
me a bowl of punch, there ’s a good fellow.” 

The aged minister did not like to be addressed 
thus, but the King’s commands must be obeyed; so, 
although the court was greatly horrified, he brought 
the bowl of punch, and the King pushed his crown 
onto the back of his head and drank heartily, and 
smacked his lips afterwards. 

“That ’s fine!” he said; “but say- — what do you 
people do to amuse yourselves } ” 

“Whatever your Majesty commands,” answered 
one of the councilors. 

“ What ! must I amuse you as well as myself? 
Methinks it is no easy task to be a King if so many 
things are required of me. But I suppose it is useless 
to fret, since the law obliges me to reign in this great 
[69] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


country against my will. Therefore will I make the 
best of my misfortune, and propose we have a dance, 
and forget our cares. Send at once for some fiddlers, 
and clear the room for our merry-making, and for 
once in our lives we shall have a jolly good time!” 

So one of the officers of the court went out and 
soon returned with three fiddlers, and when at the 
King’s command they struck up a tune, the monarch 
was delighted, for every fiddler had a very fine fiddle 
and knew well how to use it. 

Now, Old King Cole was a merry old soul, so he 
soon set all the ladies and gentlemen of the court to 
dancing, and he himself took off his crown and his 
ermine robe and laid them upon the throne, while he 
danced with the prettiest lady present till he was all 
out of breath. 

Then he. dismissed them, and they were all very 
well pleased with the new King, for they saw that, in 
spite of his odd ways, he had a kind heart, and would 
try to make every one about him as merry as he was 
himself. 

The next morning the King was informed that 
several of his subjects craved audience with him, as 
there were matters of dispute between them that must 
be settled. King Cole at first refused to see them, 
declaring he knew nothing of the quarrels of his sub- 
jects and they must manage their own affairs; but 
when the prime minister told him it was one of his 
duties as king, and the law required it, he could not 
[70] 


do otherwise than submit. So he put on his crown Old 
and his ermine robe and sat upon the throne, although Kmg 
he grumbled a good deal at the necessity; for never 
having had any business of his own to attend to he 
thought it doubly hard that in his old age he must 
attend to the business of others. 

The first case of dispute was between two men 
who each claimed to own a fine cow, and after hear- 
ing the evidence, the King ordered the cow to be 
killed and roasted and given to the poor, since that 
was the easiest way to decide the matter. Then fol- 
lowed a quarrel between two subjects over ten pieces 
of gold, one claiming the other owed him that sum. 

The King, thinking them both rascals, ordered the 
gold to be paid, and then he took it and scattered it 
amongst the beggars outside the palace. 

By this time King Cole decided he had transacted 
enough business for one day, so he sent word to those 
outside that if anyone had a quarrel that was not just 
he should be severely punished; and, indeed, when the 
subjects learned the manner in which the King settled 
disputes, they were afraid to come to him, as both 
sides were sure to be losers by the decision. And that 
saved King Cole a lot of trouble thereafter, for the 
people thought best to settle their own differences. 

The King, now seeing he was free to do as he 
pleased, retired to his private chamber, where he called 
for the three fiddlers and made them play for him 
while he smoked his pipe and drank a bowl of punch. 

[7i] 


Mother 
Goose 
in "Prose 


Every evening he had a dance in the palace, and 
every day there were picnics and merry-makings of all 
kinds, and before long King Cole had the reputation 
of having the merriest court in all the world. 

He loved to feast and to smoke and to drink his 
punch, and he was never so merry as when others 
were merry with him, so that the three fiddlers were 
almost always by his side, and at any hour of the day 
you could hear sweet strains of music echoing through 
the palace. 

Old King Cole did not forget the donkey that had 
been his constant companion for so long. He had a 
golden saddle made for him, with a saddle-cloth broid- 
ered in gold and silver, and the bridle was studded 
with diamonds and precious stones, all taken from the 
King’s treasury. 

And when he rode out, the old fat King always 
bestrode the donkey, while his courtiers rode on either 
side of him upon their prancing chargers. 

Old King Cole reigned for many years, and was 
generally beloved by his subjects; for he always gave 
liberally to all who asked, and was always as merry 
and happy as the day was long. 

When he died the new King was found to be of a 
very different temper, and ruled the country with great 
severity; but this only served to make the memory of 
Old King Cole more tenderly cherished by his people, 
and they often sighed when they recalled his merry 
pranks, and the good times they enjoyed under his rule. 

, 1 72 ] 







* . 












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Mistress Mary 


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Mistress Mary 

Mistress Mary, quite contrary, 

How does your garden grow? 

With dingle bells and cockle shells 
And cowslips, all in a row. 

H IGH upon a cliff that overlooked the sea was a Mistress 
little white cottage, in which dwelt a sailor Mary 
and his wife, with their two strong sons and a 
little girl. The sons were also sailors, and had made 
several voyages with their father in a pretty ship 
called the “Skylark.” Their names were Hobart and 
Robart. The little girl’s name was Mary, and she 
was very happy indeed when her father and her 
brothers were at home, for they petted her and played 
games with, her and loved her very dearly. But when 
the “Skylark” went to sea, and her mother and her- 
self were left alone in the little white cottage, the 
hours were very dull and tedious, and Mary counted 
the days until the sailors came home again. 

One spring, just as the grasses began to grow green 
upon the cliff and the trees were dressing their stiff, 
barren branches in robes of delicate foliage, the father 
and brothers bade good-bye to Mary and her mother, 
for they were starting upon a voyage to the Black Sea. 

“And how long will you be gone, papa?” asked 
[ 75 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


Mary, who was perched upon her father’s knee, where 
she could nestle her soft cheek against his bushy 
whiskers. 

“How long?” he repeated, stroking her curls 
tenderly as he spoke; “well, well, my darling, it will 
be a long time indeed! Do you know the cowslips 
that grow in the pastures, Mary?” 

“ Oh, yes; I watch for them every spring,” she an- 
swered. 

“And do you know the dingle-bells that grow 
near the edge of the wood?” he asked again. 

“I know them well, papa,” replied Mary, “for 
often I gather their blue blossoms and put them in a 
vase upon the table.” 

“And how about the cockle-shells?” 

“ Them also I know,” said Mary eagerly, for she 
was glad her father should find her so well acquainted 
with the field flowers; “there is nothing prettier than 
the big white flowers of the cockle-shells. But tell 
me, papa, what have the flowers to do with your com- 
ing home? ” 

“Why, just this, sweetheart,” returned the sailor 
gravely; “all the time that it takes the cowslips 
and dingle-bells and cockle-shells to sprout from the 
ground, and grow big and strong, and blossom into 
flower, and, yes — to wither and die away again — all 
that time shall your brothers and I sail the seas. But 
when the cold winds begin to blow, and the flowers 
are gone, then, God willing, we shall come back to 
[ 76 ] 


you; and by that time you may have grown wiser and Mistress 
bigger, and I am sure you will have grown older. So Mary 
one more kiss, sweetheart, and then we must go, for 
our time is up.” 

The next morning, when Mary and her mother 
had dried their eyes, which had been wet with grief 
at the departure of their loved ones, the little girl 
asked earnestly, 

“Mamma, may I make a flower-garden?” 

“A flower-garden!” repeated her mother in sur- 
prise; “why do you wish a flower-garden, Mary?” 

“ I want to plant in it the cockle-shells and the 
cowslips and the dingle-bells,” she answered. 

And her mother, who had heard what the sailor 
had said to his little girl, knew at once what Mary 
meant; so she kissed her daughter and replied, 

“Yes, Mary, you may have the flower-garden, if 
you wish. We will dig a nice little bed just at the 
side of the house, and you shall plant your flowers and 
care for them yourself.” 

« I think I ’d rather have the flowers at the front 
of the house,” said Mary. 

“But why?” enquired her mother; “they will be 
better sheltered at the side.” 

“I want them in front,” persisted Mary, “for the 
sun shines stronger there.” 

« Very well,” answered her mother, “ make your 
garden at the front, if you will, and I will help you to 
dig up the ground.” 


[ 77 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“ But I do n’t want you to help,” said Mary, “ for 
this is to be my own little flower-garden, and I want 
to do all the work myself.” 

Now I must tell you that this little girl, although 
very sweet in many ways, had one serious fault. She 
was inclined to be a bit contrary, and put her own 
opinions and ideas before those of her elders. Perhaps 
Mary meant no wrong in this; she often thought she 
knew better how to do a thing than others did; and 
in such a case she was not only contrary, but anxious 
to have her own way. 

And so her mother, who did not like her little 
daughter to be unhappy, often gave way to her in 
small things, and now she permitted Mary to make 
her own garden, and plant it as she would. 

So Mary made a long, narrow bed at the front of 
the house, and then she prepared to plant her flowers. 

“ If you scatter the seeds,” said her mother, “ the 
flower-bed will look very pretty.” 

Now this was what Mary was about to do; but 
since her mother advised it, she tried to think of 
another way, for, as I said, she was contrary at times. 
And in the end she planted the dingle-bells all in one 
straight row, and the cockle-shells in another straight 
row the length of the bed, and she finished by plant- 
ing the cowslips in another long row at the back. 

H er mother smiled, but said nothing; and now, as 
the days passed by, Mary watered and tended her 
garden with great care; and when the flowers began 
[ 78 ] 


to sprout she plucked all the weeds that grew among Mistress 
them, and so in the mild spring weather the plants Mary 
grew finely. 

“ When they have grown up big and strong,” said 
Mary one morning, as she weeded the bed, “ and when 
they have budded and blossomed and faded away 
again, then papa and my brothers will come home. 

And I shall call the cockle-shells papa, for they are 
the biggest and strongest; and the dingle-bells shall 
be brother Hobart, and the cowslips brother Robart. 

And now I feel as if the flowers were really my dear 
ones, and I must be very careful that they come to 
no harm! ” 

She was filled with joy when one morning she ran 
out to her flower-garden after breakfast and found the 
dingle-bells and cowslips were actually blossoming, 
while even the cockle-shells were showing their white 
buds. They looked rather comical, all standing in 
stiff, straight rows, one after the other; but Mary did 
not mind that. 

While she was working she heard the tramp of a 
horse’s hoofs, and looking up saw the big bluff Squire 
riding toward her. The big Squire was very fond of 
children, and whenever he rode near the little white 
cottage he stopped to have a word with Mary. He 
was old and bald-headed, and he had side-whiskers 
that were very red in color and very short and stubby; 
but there was ever a merrry twinkle in his blue eyes, 
and Mary well knew him for her friend. 

[ 79 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


Now, when she looked up and saw him coming 
toward her flower-garden, she nodded and smiled at 
him, and the big bluff Squire rode up to her side, and 
looked down with a smile at her flowers. 

Then he said to her in rhyme (for it was a way of 
speaking the jolly Squire had), 

“ Mistress Mary, so contrary, 

How does your garden grow? 

With dingle-bells and cockle-shells 
And cowslips all in a row ! ” 

And Mary, being a sharp little girl, and knowing 
the Squire’s queer ways, replied to him likewise in 
rhyme, saying, 

“I thank you, Squire, that you enquire 
How well the flowers are growing; 

The dingle-bells and cockle-shells 
And cowslips all are blowing ! ” 

The Squire laughed at this reply, and patted her 
upon her head, and then he continued, 

c< *T is aptly said. But prithee, maid. 

Why thus your garden fill 
When ev’ry field the same flowers yield 
To pluck them as you will ? 

“That is a long story, Squire,” said Mary; “but 
this much I may tell you, 


“The cockle-shell is father’s flower. 
The cowslip here is Robart, 

The dingle-bell, I now must tell, 

I *ve named for Brother Hobart 

[80] 


“And when the flowers have lived their lives 
In sunshine and in rain, 

And then do fade, why, papa said 
He’d sure come home again.” 

“Oh, that’s the idea, is it?” asked the big bluff 
Squire, forgetting his poetry. “Well, it’s a pretty 
thought, my child, and I think because the flowers 
are strong and hearty that you may know your father 
and brothers are the same; and I ’m sure I hope 
they ’ll come back from their voyage safe and sound. 
I shall come and see you again, little one, and watch 
the garden grow.” And then he said “gee-up” to 
his gray mare, and rode away. 

The very next day, to Mary’s great surprise and 
grief, she found the leaves of the dingle-bells curling 
and beginning to wither. 

“Oh, mamma,” she called, “come quick! Some- 
thing is surely the matter with brother Hobart!” 

“The dingle-bells are dying,” said her mother, 
after looking carefully at the flowers; “but the reason 
is that the cold winds from the sea swept right over 
your garden last night, and dingle-bells are delicate 
flowers and grow best where they are sheltered by the 
woods. If you had planted them at the side of the 
house, as I wished you to, the wind would not have 
killed them.” 

Mary did not reply to this, but sat down and 
began to weep, feeling at the same time that her 
mother was right and it was her own fault for being 
so contrary. 


Mistress 

Mary 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


While she sat thus the Squire rode up, and called 
to her 

“ Fie, Mary, fie ! Why do you cry. 

And blind your eyes to knowing 
How dingle-bells and cockle-shells 
And cowslips all are growing ?” 

“Oh, Squire!” sobbed Mary, “I am in great 
trouble. 

“Each dingle-bell I loved so well 
Before my eyes is dying, 

And much I fear my brother dear 
In sickness now is lying!” 

“Nonsense!” said the Squire; “because you 
named the flowers after your brother Hobart is no 
reason he should be affected by the fading of the 
dingle-bells. I very much suspect the real reason they 
are dying is because the cold sea wind caught them 
last night. Dingle-bells are delicate. If you had 
scattered the cockle-shells and cowslips all about 
them, the stronger plants would have protected the 
weaker; but you see, my girl, you planted the dingle- 
bells all in a row, and so the wind caught them 
nicely.” 

Again Mary reproached herself for having been 
contrary and refusing to listen to her mother’s advice; 
but the Squire’s words comforted her, nevertheless, 
and made her feel that brother Hobart and the flowers 
had really nothing to do with each other. 

The weather now began to change, and the cold 
sea winds blew each night over Mary’s garden. She 
[82] 


did not know this, for she was always lying snugly 
tucked up in her bed, and the warm morning sun 
usually drove away the winds; but her mother knew 
it, and feared Mary’s garden would suffer. 

One day Mary came into the house where her 
mother was at work and said, gleefully, 

“ Papa and my brothers will soon be home now.” 

“Why do you think so?” asked her mother. 

“ Because the cockle-shells and cowslips are both 
fading away and dying, just as the dingle-bells did, 
and papa said when they faded and withered he and 
the boys would come back to us.” 

Mary’s mother knew that the harsh winds had 
killed the flowers before their time, but she did not like 
to disappoint her darling, so she only said, with a sigh, 

“ I hope you are right, Mary, for we both shall be 
glad to welcome our dear ones home again.” 

But soon afterward the big bluff Squire came rid- 
ing up, as was his wont, to where Mary stood by her 
garden, and he at once asked, 

“Pray tell me, dear, though much I fear 
The answer sad I know, 

How grow the sturdy cockle-shells 
And cowslips, all in a row?” 

And Mary looked up at him with her bright smile 
and answered, 

“ Dingle-bells and cockle-shells 
And cowslips are all dead. 

And now my papa *s coming home. 

For so he surely said.” 

[83] 


Mistress 

Mary 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“Ah,” said the Squire, looking at her curiously, 
“ I ’m afraid you are getting way ahead of time. See 
here, Mary, how would you like a little ride with me 
on my nag? ” 

“I would like it very much, sir,” replied Mary. 

“Then reach up your hand. Now! — there you 
are, little one!” and Mary found herself seated safely 
in front of the Squire, who clasped her with one strong 
arm so that she could not slip off. 

“Now, then,” he said, “we’ll take a little ride 
down the hill and by the path that runs beside the 
wood.” 

So he gave the rein to his mare and they rode 
along, chatting merrily together, till they came to the 
wood. Then said the Squire, 

“Take a look within that nook 
And tell me what is there.” 

And Mary exclaimed, 

“A dingle-bell, and truth to tell 
In full bloom, I declare!” 

The Squire now clucked to his nag, and as they 
rode away he said, 

“Now come with me and you shall see 
A field with cowslips bright, 

And not a garden in the land 
Can show so fair a sight.” 

And so it was, for as they rode through the pas- 

[84] 


tures the cowslips bloomed on every hand, and Mary’s Mistress 
eyes g r ^w bigger and bigger as she thought of her poor Mary 
garden with its dead flowers. 

And then the Squire took her toward the little 
brook that wandered through the meadows, flowing 
over the pebbles with a soft, gurgling sound that was 
very nearly as sweet as music; and when they reached 
it the big- Squire $aid, 

c< If you will look beside the brook 
You 'll see, I know quite well. 

That hidden in each mossy nook 
Is many a cockle-shell.” 

This was indeed true, and as Mary saw them she 
suddenly dropped her head and began to weep. 

“ What ’s the matter, little one ? ” asked the Squire 
in his kind, bluff voice. And Mary answered, 

“Although the flowers I much admire. 

You know papa did say 
He won't be home again, Squire, 

Till all have passed away.” 

“You must be patient, my child,” replied her 
friend; “and surely you would not have been thus 
disappointed had you not tried to make the field 
flowers grow where they do not belong. Gardens are 
all well enough for fancy flowers to grow in, but the 
posies that God gave to all the world, and made to 
grow wild in the great garden of Nature, will never 
thrive in other places. Your father meant you to 
watch the flowers in the field; and if you will come 
[ 85 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


and visit them each day, you will find the time of 
waiting very short indeed.” 

Mary dried her eyes and thanked the kindly old 
Squire, and after that she visited the fields each day 
and watched the flowers grow. 

And it was not so very long, as the Squire said, 
before the blossoms began to wither and fall away; and 
finally one day Mary looked out over the sea and saw 
a little speck upon the waters that looked like a sail. 
And when it came nearer and had grown larger, both 
she and her mother saw that it was the “Skylark” 
come home again, and you can imagine how pleased 
and happy the sight of the pretty little ship made 
them. 

And soon after, when Mary had been hugged by 
her two sunburned brothers and was clasped in her 
father’s strong arms, she whispered, 

“ I knew you were coming soon, papa.” 

“And how did you know, sweetheart?” he asked, 
giving her an extra kiss. 

“Because I watched the flowers; and the dingle- 
bells and cowslips and cockle-shells are all withered 
and faded away. And did you not say that, God 
willing, when this happened you would come back to 
us ? ” 

“To be sure I did,” answered her father, with a 
happy laugh; “and I must have spoken truly, sweet- 
heart, for God in His goodness was willing, and here 
I am! ” 


[ 86 ] 




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The Wond’rous 
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The Wond’ rous Wise Man 


There was a man in our town 
And he was wond' rous wise; 

He jumped into a bramble bush 
And scratched out both his eyes. 
And when he saw his eyes were out, 
With all his might and main 
He jumped into another bush 
And scratched them in again! 


O UR town is a quiet little town, and lies nestling 
in a little valley surrounded by pretty green 
hills. I do not think you would ever have 
heard our town mentioned had not the man lived 
there who was so wise that everyone marvelled at his 
great knowledge. 

He was not always a wise man; he was a wise boy 
before he grew to manhood, and even when a child 
he was so remarkable for his wisdom that people 
shook their heads gravely and said, “when he grows 
up there will be no need of books, for he will know 
everything ! ” 

His father thought he had a wond’rous wise look 
when he was born, and so he named him Solomon, 
thinking that if indeed he turned out to be wise the 
name would fit him nicely, whereas, should he be mis- 

[89] 


The Won- 
drous 
Wise Man 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


taken, and the boy grow up stupid, his name could be 
easily changed to Simon. 

But the father was not mistaken, and the boy’s 
name remained Solomon. 

When he was still a child Solomon confounded the 
schoolmaster by asking, one day, 

“ Can you tell me, sir, why a cow drinks water 
from a brook?” 

“Well really,” replied the abashed schoolmaster, 
“ I have never given the subject serious thought. But 
I will sleep upon the question, and try to give you an 
answer to-morrow.” 

But the schoolmaster could not sleep; he remained 
awake all the night trying to think why a cow drinks 
water from a brook, and in the morning he was no 
nearer the answer than before. So he was obliged to 
appear before the wise child and acknowledge that he 
could not solve the problem. 

“ I have looked at the subject from every side,” 
said he, “and given it careful thought, and yet I can- 
not tell why a cow drinks water from a brook.” 

“Sir,” replied the wise child, “it is because the 
cow is thirsty.” 

The shock of this answer was so great that the 
schoolmaster fainted away, and when they had 
brought him to he made a prophecy that Solomon 
would grow up to be a wond’rous wise man. 

It was the same way with the village doctor. Solo- 
mon came to him one day and asked, 

[90] 


“Tell me, sir, why has a man two eyes?” 

“Bless me!” exclaimed the doctor, “I must think 
a bit before I answer, for I have never yet had my at- 
tention called to this subject.” 

So he thought for a long time, and then he said, 

“I must really give it up. I cannot tell, for the 
life of me, why a man has two eyes. Do you know?” 

“Yes, sir,” answered the boy. 

“Then,” said the doctor, after taking a dose of 
quinine to brace up his nerves, for he remembered the 
fate of the schoolmaster, “then please tell me why a 
man has two eyes.” 

“A man has two eyes, sir,” returned Solomon, 
solemnly, “because he was born that way.” 

And the doctor marvelled greatly at so much wis- 
dom in a little child, and made a note of it in his 
note-book. 

Solomon was so full of wisdom that it flowed from 
his mouth in a perfect stream, and every day he gave 
new evidence to his friends that he could scarcely hold 
all the wise thoughts that came to him. For instance, 
one day he said to his father, 

“ I perceive our dog has six legs.” 

“ Oh, no ! ” replied his father, “ our dog has only 
four legs.” 

“You are surely mistaken, sir,” said Solomon, with 
the gravity that comes from great wisdom, “these are 
our dog’s fore legs, are they not?” pointing to the 
front legs of the dog. 

[91] 


The Won- 
d'rous 
Wise Man 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“Yes,” answered his father. 

“Well, continued Solomon, “the dog has two 
other legs, besides, and two and four are six; there- 
fore the dog has six legs.” 

“ But that is very old,” exclaimed his father. 

“True,” replied Solomon, “but this is a young 

d°g>” 

Then his father bowed his head in shame that his 
own child should teach him wisdom. 

Of course Solomon wore glasses upon his eyes — all 
wise people wear them, — and his face was ever grave 
and solemn, while he walked slowly and stiffly so that 
people might know he was the celebrated wise man, 
and do him reverence. 

And when he had grown to manhood the fame of 
his wisdom spread all over the world, so that all the 
other wise men were jealous, and tried in many ways 
to confound him; but Solomon always came out 
ahead and maintained his reputation for wisdom. 

Finally a very wise man came from Cumberland, 
to meet Solomon and see which of them was the 
wisest. He was a very big man, and Solomon was a 
very little man, and so the people all shook their 
heads sadly and feared Solomon had met his match, 
for if the Cumberland man was as full of wisdom as 
Solomon, he had much the advantage in size. 

They formed a circle around the two wise men, 
and then began the trial to see which was the wisest. 

“Tell me,” said Solomon, looking straight up into 
[92] 


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the big man’s face with an air of confidence that reas- 
sured his friends, “how many sisters has a boy who has 
one father, one mother, and seven brothers?” 

The big wise man got very red in the face, and 
scowled and coughed and stammered, but he could 
not tell. 

“I do not know,” he acknowledged; “nor do you 
know, either, for there is no rule to go by.” 

“Oh, yes, I know,” replied Solomon; “he has 
two sisters. I know this is the true answer, because I 
know the boy and his father and his mother and his 
brothers and his sisters, so that I cannot be mistaken.” 

Now all the people applauded at this, for they 
were sure Solomon had got the best of the man from 
Cumberland. 

But it was now the big man’s turn to try Solomon, 
so he said, 

"Fingers five are on my hand; 

All of them upright do stand. 

One a dog is, chasing kittens; 

One a cat is, wearing mittens; 

One a rat is, eating cheese; 

One a wolf is, full of fleas; 

One a fly is, in a cup — 

How many fingers do I hold up?” 

“Four,” replied Solomon, promptly, “for one of 
them is a thumb!” 

The wise man from Cumberland was so angry at 
being outwitted that he sprang at Solomon and would 
no doubt have injured him had not our wise man 
turned and run away as fast as he could go. The 
[ 93 ] 


The Won- 
d'rous 
Wise Man 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


man from Cumberland at once ran after him, and 
chased him through the streets and down the lanes and 
up the side of the hill where the bramble-bushes grow. 

Solomon ran very fast, but the man from Cumber- 
land was bigger, and he was just about to grab our 
wise man by his coat-tails when Solomon gave a great 
jump, and jumped right into the middle of a big 
bramble-bush ! 

The people were all coming up behind, and as the 
big man did not dare to follow Solomon into the 
bramble-bush, he turned away and ran home to Cum- 
berland. 

All the men and women of our town were horrified 
when they came up and found their wise man in the 
middle of the bramble-bush, and held fast by the bram- 
bles, which scratched and pricked him on every side. 

“Solomon! are you hurt?” they cried. 

“I should say I am hurt!” replied Solomon, with 
a groan; “my eyes are scratched out!” 

“How do you know they are?” asked the village 
doctor. 

“I can see they are scratched out!” replied Solo- 
mon; and the people all wept with grief at this, and 
Solomon howled louder than any of them. 

Now the fact was that when Solomon jumped into 
the bramble-bush he was wearing his spectacles, and 
the brambles pushed the glasses so close against his 
eyes that he could not open them; and so, as every 
other part of him was scratched and bleeding, and he 
[ 94 ] 


could not open his eyes, he made sure they were 
scratched out. 

“ How am I to get out of here? ” he asked at last. 

“You must jump out,” replied the doctor, “since 
you have jumped in.” 

So Solomon made a great jump, and although the 
brambles tore him cruelly, he sprang entirely out of 
the bush and fell plump into another one. 

This last bush, however, by good luck, was not a 
bramble-bush, but one of elderberry, and when he 
jumped into it his spectacles fell off, and to his sur- 
prise he opened his eyes and found that he could see 
again. 

“Where are you now? ” called out the doctor. 

“ I ’m in the elderberry bush, and I ’ve scratched 
my eyes in again!” answered Solomon. 

When the people heard this they marvelled greatly 
at the wisdom of a man who knew how to scratch his 
eyes in after they were scratched out; and they lifted 
Solomon from the bush and carried him home, where 
they bound up the scratches and nursed him carefully 
until he was well again. 

And after that no one ever questioned the won- 
d’rous wisdom of our wise man, and when he finally 
died, at a good old age, they built a great monument 
over his grave, and on one side of it were the words, 

“ Solomon; the Man who was WoncTrous Wise/’ 

and on the other side was a picture of a bramble-bush. 

[ 95 ] 


The Won- 
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Wise Man 























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What Jack Horner Did 




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What Jack Horner Did 

Little Jack Horner sat in a corner. 

Eating a Christmas pie; 

He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum 
And said, “What a good boy am I P 

L ITTLE JACK HORNER lived in an old, tum- 
ble-down house at the edge of a big wood; 
and there many generations of Horners had 
lived before him, and had earned their living by chop- 
ping wood. Jack’s father and mother were both 
dead, and he lived with his grandfather and grand- 
mother, who took great pains to teach him all that a 
boy should know. 

They lived very comfortably and happily together 
until one day a great tree fell upon Grandpa Horner 
and crushed his legs; and from that time on he could 
not work at all, but had to be nursed and tended 
very carefully. 

This calamity was a great affliction to the Horners. 
Grandma Horner had a little money saved up in an 
old broken teapot that she kept in the cupboard, but 
that would not last them a great time, and when it 
was gone they would have nothing with which to buy 
food. 

[ 99 ] 


< 


What 

Jack 

Homer 

Did 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“ I ’m sure I do n’t know what is to become of 
us,” she said to Jack, “for I am too old to work, and 
you are too young.” She always told her troubles to 
Jack now; small though he was, he was the only one 
she could talk freely with, since it would only bother 
the poor crippled grandfather to tell him how low the 
money was getting in the teapot. 

“It is true,” replied Jack, “that you are too old 
to work, for your rheumatism will barely allow you 
to care for the house and cook our meals; and there 
is grandpa to be tended. But I am not too young to 
work, grandma, and I shall take my little hatchet and 
go into the wood. I cannot cut the big trees, but I 
can the smaller ones, and I am sure I shall be able to 
pile up enough wood to secure the money we need 
for food.” 

“You are a good boy, dear,” said grandma Horner, 
patting his head lovingly, “but you are too young for 
the task. We must think of some other way to keep 
the wolf from the door.” 

But Jack was not shaken in his resolve, although 
he saw it was useless to argue further with his grand- 
mother. So the next morning he rose very early and 
took his little axe and went into the wood to begin 
his work. There were a good many branches scat- 
tered about, and these he was able to cut with ease; 
and then he piled them up nicely to be sold when the 
wood-carter next came around. When dinner-time 
came he stopped long enough to eat some of the 

[ ioo] 


bread and cheese he had brought with him, and then 
he resumed his work. 

But scarcely had he chopped one branch when a 
faint cry from the wood arrested his attention. It 
seemed as if some one was shouting for help. Jack 
listened a moment, and again heard the cry. 

Without hesitation he seized his axe and ran to- 
ward the place from whence the cry had proceeded. 
The underbrush was very thick and the thorns caught 
in his clothing and held him back, but with the aid of 
his sharp little axe he overcame all difficulties and 
presently reached a place where the wood was more 
open. 

He paused here, for often he had been told by 
Grandpa Horner that there were treacherous bogs in 
this part of the wood, which were so covered with 
mosses and ferns that the ground seemed solid enough 
to walk upon. But woe to the unlucky traveler who 
stepped unawares upon their surface; for instantly he 
found himself caught by the clinging moist clay, to sink 
farther and farther into the bog until, swallowed up 
in the mire, he would meet a horrible death beneath 
its slimy surface. His grandfather had told him never 
to go near these terrible bogs, and Jack, who was an 
obedient boy, had always kept away from this part of 
the wood. But as he paused, again that despairing 
cry came to his ears, very near, to him now, it seemed: 

“Help!” 

Forgetful of all save a desire to assist this unknown 
[ *oi ] 


What 

Jack 

Homer 

Did 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


sufferer, Jack sprang forward with an answering cry, 
and only halted when he found himself upon the edge 
of a vast bog. 

“Where are you?” he then shouted. 

“Here!” answered a voice, and, looking down, 
Jack saw, a few feet away, the head and shoulders of 
a man. He had walked into the bog and sunk into 
its treacherous depths nearly to his waist, and, although 
he struggled bravely, his efforts only seemed to draw 
him farther down toward a frightful death. 

For a moment, filled with horror and dismay, Jack 
stood looking at the man. Then he remembered a 
story he had once heard of how a man had been saved 
from the bog. 

“Be quiet, sir!” he called to the unfortunate 
stranger; “save all your strength, aad I may yet be 
able to rescue you.” 

He then ran to a tall sapling that stood near and 
began chopping away with his axe. The keen blade 
speedily cut through the young but tough wood, and, 
then Jack dragged it to the edge of the bog, and, 
exerting all his strength, pushed it out until the sap- 
ling was within reach of the sinking man. 

“Grab it, sir!” he called out, “and hold on 
tightly. It will keep you from sinking farther into 
the mire, and when you have gained more strength 
you may be able to pull yourself out.” 

“You are a brave boy,” replied the stranger, “and 
I shall do as you tell me.” 

[ 102 ] 



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It was a Tong and tedious struggle, and often Jack 
thought the stranger would despair and be unable to 
drag his body from the firm clutch of the bog; but 
little by little the man succeeded in drawing himself 
up by the sapling, and at last he was saved, and sank 
down exhausted upon the firm ground by Jack’s side. 

The boy then ran for some water that stood in a 
slough near by, and with this he bathed the stranger’s 
face and cooled his parched lips. Then he gave him 
the remains of his bread and cheese, and soon the 
gentleman became strong enough to walk with Jack’s 
help to the cottage at the edge of the wood. 

Grandma Horner was greatly surprised to see the 
strange man approaching, supported by her sturdy 
little grandson; but she ran to help him, and after- 
ward gave him some old clothing of Grandpa Horner’s 
to replace his own muddy garments. When the man 
had fully rested, she brewed him her last bit of tea, 
and by that time the stranger declared he felt as good 
as new. 

“Is this your son, ma’am?” he asked, pointing to 
Jack. 

“He is my grandson, sir,” answered the woman. 

« He is a good boy,” declared the stranger, “and a 
brave boy as well, for he has saved my life. I live far 
away in a big city, and have plenty of money. If 
you will give Jack to me I will take him home and 
educate him, and make a great man of him when he 
grows up.” 


What 

Jack 

Horner 

Did 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


Grandma Horner hesitated, for the boy was very 
dear to her and the pride of her old age; but Jack 
spoke up for himself. 

“I’ll not go,” he said, stoutly; “you are very 
kind, and mean well by me, but grandma and grandpa 
have only me to care for them now, and I must stay 
with them and cut the wood, and so keep them sup- 
plied with food.” 

The stranger said nothing more, but he patted 
Jack’s head kindly, and soon after left them and took 
the road to the city. 

The next morning Jack went to the wood again, 
and began chopping as bravely as before. And by 
hard work he cut a great deal of wood, which the 
wood-carter carried away and sold for him. The pay 
was not very much, to be sure, but Jack was glad that 
he was able to earn something to help his grandparents. 

And so the days passed rapidly away until it was 
nearly Christmas time, and now, in spite of Jack’s 
earnings, the money was very low indeed in the broken 
teapot. 

One day, just before Christmas, a great wagon 
drove up to the door of the little cottage, and in it 
was the stranger Jack had rescued from the bog. The 
wagon was loaded with a store of good things which 
would add to the comfort of the aged pair and their 
grandson, including medicines for grandpa and rare 
teas for grandma, and a fine suit of clothes for Jack, 
who was just then away at work in the wood. 

[!° 4 ] 


When the stranger had brought all these things 
into the house, he asked to see the old teapot. Trem- 
bling with the excitement of their good fortune, 
Grandma Horner brought out the teapot, and the 
gentleman drew a bag from beneath his coat and filled 
the pot to the brim with shining gold pieces. 

“If ever you need more,” he said, “send to me, 
and you shall have all you wish to make you comfort- 
able.” 

Then he told her his name, and where he lived, so 
that she might find him if need be, and then he drove 
away in the empty wagon before Grandma Horner 
had half finished thanking him. 

You can imagine how astonished and happy little 
Jack was when he returned from his work and found 
all the good things his kind benefactor had brought. 
Grandma Horner was herself so delighted that she 
caught the boy in her arms, and hugged and kissed 
him, declaring that his brave rescue of the gentleman 
had brought them all this happiness in their hour of 
need. 

“To-morrow is Christmas,” she said, “and we 
shall have an abundance with which to celebrate the 
good day. So I shall make you a Christmas pie, Jack 
dear, and stuff it full of plums, for you must have your 
share of our unexpected prosperity.” 

And Grandma Horner was as good as her word, 
and made a very delicious pie indeed for her darling 
grandson. 


What 

Jack 

Horner 

Bid 


[ 105 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


And this was how it came that 

“Little Jack Horner sat in a corner 
Eating a Christmas pie; 

He put in his thumb and pulled out a plum. 

And said, “What a good boy am I ! ” 

And he was — a very good boy. Don’t you think 
so? 


[106] 





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' 

















The Man in the Moon 


The Man in the Moon came tumbling down, 

And enquired the way to Norwich; 

He went by the south and burned his mouth 
With eating cold pease porridge! 

W HAT! have you never heard the story of the 
Man in the Moon? Then I must surely tell 
it, for it is very amusing, and there is not a 
word of truth in it. 

The Man in the Moon was rather lonesome, and 
often he peeked over the edge of the moon and 
looked down upon the earth and envied all the people 
who lived together, for he thought it must be vastly 
more pleasant to have companions to talk to than to 
be shut up in a big planet all by himself, where he 
had to whistle to keep himself company. 

One day he looked down and saw an alderman 
sailing up through the air towards him. This aider- 
man was being translated (instead of being transported, 
owing to a misprint in the law) and as he came near 
the Man in the Moon called to him and said, 

“ How is everything down on the earth?” 
“Everything is lovely,” replied the alderman, “and 
I would n’t leave it if I was not obliged to.” 

[ io 9 ] 


The 

Man in 
the Moon 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“ What ’s a good place to visit down there ? ” 
enquired the Man in the Moon. 

“ Oh, Norwich is a mighty fine place,” returned 
the alderman, “and it’s famous for its pease porridge;” 
and then he sailed out of sight and left the Man in 
the Moon to reflect upon what he had said. 

The words of the alderman made him more 
anxious than ever to visit the earth, and so he walked 
thoughtfully home, and put a few lumps of ice in the 
stove to keep him warm, and sat down to think how 
he should manage the trip. 

You see, everything went by contraries in the 
Moon, and when the Man wished to keep warm he 
knocked off* a few chunks of ice and put them in his 
stove; and he cooled his drinking water by throwing 
red-hot coals of fire into the pitcher. Likewise, when 
he became chilly he took off his hat and coat, and 
even his shoes, and so became warm; and in the hot 
days of summer he put on his overcoat to cool off. 

All of which seems very queer to you, no doubt; 
but it was n’t at all queer to the Man in the Moon, 
for he was accustomed to it. 

Well, he sat by his ice-cool fire and thought about 
his journey to the earth, and finally he decided the 
only way he could get there was to slide down a 
moonbeam. 

So he left the house and locked the door and put 
the key in his pocket, for he was uncertain how long 
he should be gone; and then he went to the edge of 
[ no] 


the moon and began to search for a good strong 
moonbeam. 

At last he found one that seemed rather substantial 
and reached right down to a pleasant-looking spot on 
the earth; and so he swung himself over the edge of 
the moon, and put both arms tight around the moon- 
beam and started to slide down. But he found it 
rather slippery, and in spite of all his efforts to hold 
on he found himself going faster and faster, so that 
just before he reached the earth he lost his hold and 
came tumbling down head over heels and fell plump 
into a river. 

The cool water nearly scalded him before he could 
swim out, but fortunately he was near the bank and 
he quickly scrambled upon the land and sat down to 
catch his breath. 

By that time it was morning, and as the sun rose 
its hot rays cooled him olf somewhat, so that he began 
looking about curiously at all the strange sights and 
wondering where on earth he was. 

By and by a farmer came along the road by the 
river with a team of horses drawing a load of hay, and 
the horses looked so odd to the Man in the Moon 
that at first he was greatly frightened, never before 
having seen horses except from his home in the moon, 
from whence they looked a good deal smaller. But 
he plucked up courage and said to the farmer, 

“ Can you tell me the way to Norwich, sir? ” 

“Norwich?” repeated the farmer musingly; “I 
[in] 


The 

Man in 
the Moon 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


do n’t know exactly where it be, sir, but it ’s some- 
where away to the south.” 

“Thank you,” said the Man in the Moon. — But 
stop! I must not call him the Man in the Moon any 
longer, for of course he was now out of the moon; so 
I ’ll simply call him the Man, and you ’ll know by 
that which man I mean. 

Well, the Man in the — I mean the Man (but I 
nearly forgot what I have just said) — the Man turned 
to the south and began walking briskly along the 
road, for he had made up his mind to do as the aider- 
man had advised and travel to Norwich, that he might 
eat some of the famous pease porridge that was made 
there. And finally, after a long and tiresome journey, 
he reached the town and stopped at one of the first 
houses he came to, for by this time he was very hun- 
gry indeed. 

A good-looking woman answered his knock at the 
door, and he asked politely, 

“Is this the town of Norwich, madam?” 

“ Surely this is the town of Norwich,” returned the 
woman. 

“ I came here to see if I could get some pease 
porridge,” continued the Man, “ for I hear you make 
the nicest porridge in the world in this town.” 

“That we do, sir,” answered the woman, “and if 
you ’ll step inside I ’ll give you a bowl, for I have 
plenty in the house that is newly made.” 


[ 112 ] 



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So he thanked her and entered the house, and she 
asked, 

“Will you have it hot or cold, sir? ” 

“Oh, cold, by all means,” replied the Man, “for I 
detest anything hot to eat.” 

She soon brought him a bowl of cold pease por- 
ridge, and the Man was so hungry that he took a big 
spoonful at once. 

But no sooner had he put it into his mouth than 
he uttered a great yell, and began dancing frantically 
about the room, for of course the porridge that was 
cold to earth folk was hot to him, and the big spoon- 
ful of cold pease porridge had burned his mouth to a 
blister ! 

“What ’s the matter? ” asked the woman. 

“Matter!” screamed the Man; “why, your por- 
ridge is so hot it has burned me.” 

“Fiddlesticks!” she replied, “the porridge is quite 
cold.” 

“Try it yourself!” he cried. So she tried it and 
found it very cold and pleasant. But the Man was so 
astonished to see her eat the porridge that had blis- 
tered his own mouth that he became frightened and 
ran out of the house and down the street as fast as he 
could go. 

The policeman on the first corner saw him run- 
ning, and promptly arrested him, and he was marched 
off to the magistrate for trial. 

“What is your name?” asked the magistrate. 

[» 3 ] 


The 

Man in 
the Moon 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“ I have n’t any,” replied the Man; for of course as 
he was the only Man in the Moon it was n’t necessary 
he should have a name. 

“ Come, come, no nonsense ! ” said the magistrate, 
“you must have some name. Who are you?” 

“ Why, I ’m the Man in the Moon.” 

“That’s rubbish!” said the magistrate, eyeing the 
prisoner severely, “you may be a man, but you’re not 
in the moon — you’re in Norwich.” 

“That is true,” answered the Man, who was quite 
bewildered by this idea. 

“And of course you must be called something,” 
continued the magistrate. 

“Well, then,” said the prisoner, “if I’m not the 
Man in the Moon I must be the Man out of the 
Moon; so call me that.” 

“Very good,” replied the judge; “now, then, 
where did you come from?” 

“ The moon.” 

“Oh, you did, eh? How did you get here?” 

“ I slid down a moonbeam.” 

“Indeed! Well, what were you running for?” 

“ A woman gave me some cold pease porridge, and 
it burned my mouth.” 

The magistrate looked at him a moment in sur- 
prise, and then he said, 

“This person is evidently crazy; so take him to 
the lunatic asylum and keep him there.” 

This would surely have been the fate of the Man 
[ ” 4 ] 


had there not been present an old astronomer who 
had often looked at the moon through his telescope, 
and so had discovered that what was hot on earth was 
cold in the moon, and what was cold here was hot 
there; so he began to think the Man had told the 
truth. Therefore he begged the magistrate to wait a 
few minutes while he looked through his telescope to 
see if the Man in the Moon was there. So, as it was 
now night, he fetched his telescope and looked at the 
Moon, — and found there was no man in it at all! 

“It seems to be true,” said the astronomer, “that 
the Man has got out of the Moon somehow or other. 
Let me look at your mouth, sir, and see if it is really 
burned.” 

Then the Man opened his mouth, and everyone 
saw plainly it was burned to a blister! Thereupon 
the magistrate begged his pardon for doubting his 
word, and asked him what he would like to do next. 

“ I ’d like to get back to the Moon,” said the 
Man, “ for I do n’t like this earth of yours at all. 
The nights are too hot.” 

“Why, it’s quite cool this evening!” said the 
magistrate. 

« I ’ll tell you what we can do,” remarked the 
astronomer; “there’s a big balloon in town which 
belongs to the circus that came here last summer, and 
was pawned for a board bill. We can inflate this bal- 
loon and send the Man out of the Moon home in it.” 

“ That ’s a good idea,” replied the judge. So the 

C 


The 

Man in 
the Moon 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


balloon was brought and inflated, and the Man got 
into the basket and gave the word to let go, and then 
the balloon mounted up into the sky in the direction 
of the moon. 

The good people of Norwich stood on the earth 
and tipped back their heads, and watched the balloon 
go higher and higher, until finally the Man reached 
out and caught hold of the edge of the moon, and 
behold! the next minute he was the Man in the 
Moon again! 

After this adventure he was well contented to stay 
at home; and I ’ve no doubt if you look through a 
telescope you will see him there to this day. 


t ”<>] 


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■* 







The Jolly Miller 


There was a ji 


joHy 


miller 


Lived on the river Dee; 

He sang and worked from morn till night. 
No lark so blithe as he. 

And this the burden of his song 
Forever seemed to be: 

I care for nobody, no! not I, 

Since nobody cares for me. 



“p REE-E-EEKETY-CRUCK-CRICK! cree-e- The y oily 


eekety-cruck-crick ! ” sang out the big wheel Miller 
of the mill upon the river Dee, for it was old 


and ricketty and had worked many years grinding 
corn for the miller; so from morning till night it 
creaked and growled and complained as if rebelling 
against the work it must do. And the country 
people, at work in the fields far away, would raise their 
heads when the soft summer breezes wafted the sound 
of the wheel to their ears and say, 

“The jolly miller is grinding his corn.” And 
again, at the times when the mill was shut down and 
no sound of the wheel reached them, they said to one 
another, 

“The jolly miller has no corn to grind to-day,” 
or, “ The miller is oiling the great wheel.” But they 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


would miss the creaking, monotonous noise, and feel 
more content when the mill started again and made 
music for them as they worked. 

But no one came to the mill unless they brought 
corn to grind, for the miller was a queer man, and 
liked to be alone. When people passed by the mill 
and saw the miller at his work, they only nodded their 
heads, for they knew he would not reply if they spoke 
to him. 

He was not an old man, nor a sour man, nor a 
bad man; on the contrary he could be heard singing at 
his work most of the time. But the words of his song 
would alone have kept people away from him, for 
they were always these: 

CC I care for nobody, no! not I, 

Since nobody cares for me.” 

He lived all alone in the mill-house, cooking his 
own meals and making his own bed, and neither ask- 
ing nor receiving help from anyone. Tt is very certain 
that if the jolly miller had cared to have friends many 
would have visited him, since the country people were 
sociable enough in their way; but it was the miller 
himself who refused to make friends, and old Farmer 
Dobson used to say, 

“ The reason nobody cares for the miller is because 
he won’t let them. It is the fault of the man himself, 
not the fault of the people!” 

However this may have been, it is true the miller 

[ 120 ] 


had no friends, and equally sure that he cared to have 
none, for it did not make him a bit unhappy. 

Sometimes, indeed, as he sat at evening in the 
doorway of the mill and watched the moon rise in the 
sky, he grew a bit lonely and thoughtful, and found 
himself longing for some one to love and cherish, for 
this is the nature of all good men. But when he 
realized how his thoughts were straying he began to 
sing again, and he drove away all such hopeless 
longings. 

At last a change came over the miller’s life. He 
was standing one evening beside the river, watching 
the moonbeams play upon the water, when something 
came floating down the stream that attracted his 
attention. For a long time he could not tell what it 
was, but it looked to him like a big black box; so he 
got a long pole and reached it out towards the box 
and managed to draw it within reach just above the 
big wheel. It was fortunate he saved it when he did, 
for in another moment it would have gone over the 
wheel and been dashed to pieces far below. 

When the miller had pulled the floating object 
upon the bank he found it really was a box, the lid 
being fastened tight with a strong cord. So he lifted 
it carefully and carried it into the mill-house, and 
then he placed it upon the floor while he lighted a 
candle. Then he cut the cord and opened the box, 
and behold! a little babe lay within it, sweetly sleep- 
ing upon a pillow of down. 

[ 121 ] 


The Jolly 
Miller 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


The miller was so surprised that he stopped sing- 
ing and gazed with big eyes at the beautiful face of 
the little stranger. And while he gazed its eyes 
opened — -two beautiful, pleading blue eyes, — and the 
little one smiled and stretched out her arms toward 
him. 

“Well, well!” said the miller, “where on earth 
did you come from?” 

The baby did not reply, but she tried to, and 
made some soft little noises that sounded like the coo- 
ing of a pigeon. 

The tiny arms were still stretched upwards, and 
the miller bent down and tenderly lifted the child 
from the box and placed her upon his knee, and then 
he began to stroke the soft, silken ringlets that clus- 
tered around her head, and to look upon her won- 
deringly. The baby leaned against his breast and 
fell asleep again, and the miller became greatly 
troubled, for he was unused to babies and did not 
know how to handle them or care for them. But he 
sat very still until the little one awoke, and then, 
thinking it must be hungry, he brought some sweet 
milk and fed her with a spoon. 

The baby smiled at him and ate the milk as if it 
liked it, and then one little dimpled hand caught hold 
of the miller’s whiskers and pulled sturdily, while the 
baby jumped its little body up and down and cooed 
its delight. 

Do you think the miller was angry? Not a bit of 

[ 122 ] 


it! He smiled back into the laughing face and let The Jolly 
her pull his whiskers as much as she liked. For his Miller 
whole heart had gone out to this little waif that he 
had rescued from the river, and at last the solitary- 
man had found something to love. 

The baby slept that night in the miller’s own bed, 
snugly tucked in beside the miller himself; and in the 
morning he fed her milk again, and then went out to 
his work singing more merrily than ever. 

Every few minutes he would put his head into the 
room where he had left the child, to see if it wanted 
anything, and if it cried even the least bit he would 
run in and take it in his arms and soothe the little 
girl until she smiled again. 

That first day the miller was fearful some one 
would come and claim the child, but when evening 
came without the arrival of any stranger he decided 
the baby had been cast adrift and now belonged to 
nobody but him. 

“I shall keep her as long as I live,” he thought, 

“ and never will we be separated for even a day. For 
now that I have found some one to love I could not 
bear to let her go again.” 

He cared for the waif very tenderly; and as the 
child was strong and healthy she was not much 
trouble to him, and to his delight grew bigger day by 
day. 

The country people were filled with surprise when 
they saw a child in the mill-house, and wondered 
[123] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


where it came from; but the miller would answer no 
questions, and as year after year passed away they 
forgot to enquire how the child came there and 
looked upon her as the miller’s own daughter. 

She grew to be a sweet and pretty child, and was 
the miller’s constant companion. She called him 
“papa,” and he called her Nathalie, because he had 
found her upon the water, and the country people 
called her the Maid of the Mill. 

The miller worked harder than ever before, for 
now he had to feed and clothe the little girl; and he 
sang from morn till night, so joyous was he, and still 
his song was: 

<C I care for nobody, no! not I, 

Since nobody cares for me.” 

One day, while he was singing this, he heard a sob 
beside him, and looked down to see Nathalie weeping. 

“What is it, my pet?” he asked, anxiously. 

“Oh, papa,” she answered, “why do you sing that 
nobody cares for you, when you know I love you so 
dearly? ” 

The miller was surprised, for he had sung the song 
so long he had forgotten what the words meant. 

“Do you indeed love me, Nathalie?” he asked. 

“Indeed, indeed! You know I do!” she replied. 

“ Then,” said the miller, with a happy laugh, as 
he bent down and kissed the tear-stained face, “I shall 
change my song.” 


[ 124 ] 


And after that he sang: 

“I love sweet Nathalie, that I do. 

For Nathalie* she loves me.” 

The years passed by and the miller was very 
happy. Nathalie grew to be a sweet and lovely 
maiden, and she learned to cook the meals and tend 
the house, and that made it easier for the miller, for 
now he was growing old. 

One day the young Squire, who lived at the great 
house on the hill, came past the mill and saw Nathalie 
sitting in the doorway, her pretty form framed in the 
flowers that climbed around and over the door. 

And the Squire loved her after that first glance, 
for he saw that she was as good and innocent as she 
was beautiful. The miller, hearing the sound of voices, 
came out and saw them together, and at once he 
became very angry, for he knew that trouble was in 
store for him, and he must guard his treasure very 
carefully if he wished to keep her with him. The 
young Squire begged very hard to be allowed to pay 
court to the Maid of the Mill, but the miller ordered 
him away, and he was forced to go. Then the miller 
saw there were tears in Nathalie’s eyes, and that made 
him still more anxious, for he feared the mischief was 
already done. 

Indeed, in spite of the miller’s watchfulness, the 
Squire and Nathalie often met and walked together in 
the shady lanes or upon the green banks of the river. 

[ I2 5 ] 


The Jolly 
Miller 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


It was not long before they learned to love one an- 
other very dearly, and one day they went hand in hand 
to the miller and asked his consent that they should wed. 

“What will become of me?” asked the miller, 
with a sad heart. 

“You shall live in the great house with us,” 
replied the Squire, “ and never again need you labor 
for bread.” 

But the old man shook his head. 

“A miller I have lived,” quoth he, “and a miller 
will I die. But tell me, Nathalie, are you willing to 
leave me? ” 

The girl cast down her eyes and blushed sweetly. 

“I love him,” she whispered, “and if you separate 
us I shall die.” 

“ Then,” said the miller, kissing her with a heavy 
heart, “go; and may God bless you!” 

So Nathalie and the Squire were wed, and lived in 
the great house, and the very day after the wedding 
she came walking down to the mill in her pretty new 
gown to see the miller. 

But as she drew near she heard him singing, as wa$ 
his wont; and the song he sung she had not heard 
since she was a little girl, for this was it: 

“I care for nobody, no! not I, 

Since nobody cares for me.” 


She came up softly behind him, and put her arms 
around his neck. 

1 126 ] 


“ Papa,” said she, “ you must not sing that song. 
Nathalie loves you yet, and always will while she 
lives; for my new love is complete in itself, and has 
not robbed you of one bit of the love that has always 
been your very own.” 

The miller turned and looked into her blue eyes, 
and knew that she spoke truly. 

“ Then I must learn a new song again,” he said, 
“ for it is lonely at the mill, and singing makes the 
heart lighter. But I will promise that never again, 
till you forget me, will I sing that nobody cares for 
me.” 

And the miller did learn a new song, and sang it 
right merrily for many years; for each day Nathalie 
came down to the mill to show that she had not for- 
gotten him. 


The Jolly 
Miller 


[ 127 ] 




































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The Little Man and His Little Gun 

There was a little man and he had a little gun, 

And the bullets were made of lead, lead, lead. 

He went to the brook and shot a little duck, 

And the bullet went right through its head, head, head. 

T HERE was once a little man named Jimson, 
who had stopped growing when he was a boy, 
and never started again. So, although he was 
old enough to be a man he was hardly big enough, 
and had he not owned a bald head and gray whiskers 
you would certainly have taken him for a boy when- 
ever you saw him. 

This little man was very sorry he was not bigger, 
and if you wanted to make him angry you had but to 
call attention to his size. He dressed just as big men 
do, and wore a silk hat and a long-tailed coat when 
he went to church, and a cap and top-boots when he 
rode horseback. He walked with a little cane and 
had a little umbrella made to carry when it rained. 
In fact, whatever other men did this little man was 
anxious to do also, and so it happened that when the 
hunting season came around, and all the men began 
to get their guns ready to hunt for snipe and duck, 
Mr. Jimson also had a little gun made, and determined 
to use it as well as any of them. 

[131] 


The Little 
Man and 
His Little 
Gun 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


When he brought it home and showed it to his 
wife, who was a very big woman, she said, 

“Jimson, you’d better use bullets made of bread, 
and then you won’t hurt anything.” 

“ Nonsense, Joan,” replied the little man, “I shall 
have bullets made of lead, just as other men do, and 
every duck I see I shall shoot and bring home to you.” 

“ I ’m afraid you won’t kill many,” said Joan. 

But the little man believed he could shoot with 
the best of them, so the next morning he got up 
early and took his little gun and started down to the 
brook to hunt for duck. 

It was scarcely daybreak when he arrived at the 
brook, and the sun had not yet peeped over the 
eastern hill-tops, but no duck appeared anywhere in 
sight, although Mr. Jimson knew this was the right 
time of day for shooting them. So he sat down 
beside the brook and begun watching, and before he 
knew it he had fallen fast asleep. 

By and by he was awakened by a peculiar noise. 

“Quack, quack, quack!” sounded in his ears; and 
looking up he saw a pretty little duck swimming in 
the brook and popping its head under the water in 
search of something to eat. The duck belonged to 
Johnny Sprigg, who lived a little way down the brook, 
but the little man did not know this. He thought it 
was a wild duck, so he stood up and carefully took 
aim. 

“I ’m afraid I can’t hit it from here,” he thought, 
C J 32 ] 


“ so I ’ll just step upon that big stone in the brook, 
and shoot from there.” 

So he stepped out upon the stone, and took aim at 
the duck again, and fired the gun. 

The next minute the little man had tumbled head 
over heels into the water, and he nearly drowned 
before he could scramble out again; for, not being 
used to shooting, the gun had kicked, or recoiled, and 
had knocked him off the round stone where he had 
been standing. 

When he had succeeded in reaching the bank he 
was overjoyed to see that he had shot the duck, which 
lay dead upon the water a short distance away. The 
little man got a long stick, and, reaching it out, drew 
the dead duck to the bank. Then he started joyfully 
homeward to show the prize to his wife. 

“There, Joan,” he said, as he entered the house, 
“is a nice little duck for our dinner. Do you now 
think your husband cannot shoot? ” 

“ But there ’s only one duck,” remarked his wife, 
« and it ’s very small. Can’t you go and shoot 
another? Then we shall have enough for dinner.” 

“Yes, of course I can shoot another,” said the little 
man, proudly; “you make a fire and get the pot 
boiling, and I ’ll go for another duck.” 

“You ’d better shoot a drake this time,” said Joan, 
“ for drakes are bigger.” 

She started to make the fire, and the little man 
took his gun and went to the brook; but not a duck 
[! 33 ] 


The Little 
Man and 
His Little 
Gun 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


did he see, nor drake neither, and so ne was forced to 
come home without any game. 

“ There ’s no use cooking one duck,” said his wife, 
“ so we ’ll have pork and beans for dinner and I ’ll 
hang the little duck in the shed. Perhaps you ’ll be 
able to shoot a drake to-morrow, and then we ’ll cook 
them both together.” 

So they had pork and beans, to the great disap- 
pointment of Mr. Jimson, who had expected to eat 
duck instead; and after dinner the little man lay 
down to take a nap while his wife went out to tell the 
neighbors what a great hunter he was. 

The news spread rapidly through the town, and 
when the evening paper came out the little man was 
very angry to see this verse printed in it: 

There was a little man and he had a little gun, 

And the bullets were made of lead, lead, lead. 

He went to the brook and shot a little duck, 

And the bullet went right through its head, head, head. 

He carried it home to his good wife Joan, 

And bade her a fire to make, make, make, 

While he went to the brook where he shot the little duck, 

And tried for to shoot the drake, drake, drake. 

“There’s no use putting it into the paper,” 
exclaimed the little man, much provoked, “and Mr. 
Brayer, the editor, is probably jealous because he him- 
self cannot shoot a gun. Perhaps people think I 
cannot shoot a drake, but I ’ll show them to-morrow 
that I can ! ” 

So the next morning he got up early again, and 

[134] 


took his gun, and loaded it with bullets made of lead. 
Then he said to his wife, 

“What does a drake look like, my love? ” 

“Why,” she replied, “it’s much like a duck, only 
it has a curl on its tail and red on its wing.” 

“ All right,” he answered, “ I ’ll bring you home a 
drake in a short time, and to-day we shall have some- 
thing better for dinner than pork and beans.” 

When he got to the brook there was nothing in 
sight, so he sat down on the bank to watch, and again 
fell fast asleep. 

Now Johnny Sprigg had missed his little duck, and 
knew some one had shot it; so he thought this morn- 
ing he would go the brook and watch for the man 
who had killed the 4 uc k, and make him pay a good 
price for it. Johnny was a big man, whose head was 
very bald; therefore he wore a red curly wig to cover 
his baldness and make him look younger. 

When he got to the brook he saw no one about, 
and so he hid in a clump of bushes. After a time 
the little man woke up, and in looking around for 
the drake he saw Johnny’s red wig sticking out of the 
top of the bushes. 

“That is surely the drake,” he thought, “for I can 
see a curl and something red;” and the next minute 
“bang!” went the gun, and Johnny Sprigg gave a 
great yell and jumped out of the bushes. As for his 
beautiful wig, it was shot right off his head, and fell 
into the water of the brook a good ten yards away! 

[ J 35 ] 


The Little 
Man and 
His Little 
Gun 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“What are you trying to do?” he cried, shaking 
his fist at the little man. 

“Why, I was only shooting at the drake,” replied 
Jimson; “and I hit it, too, for there it is in the 
water.” 

“That’s my wig, sir!” said Johnny Sprigg, “and 
you shall pay for it, or I ’ll have the law on you, 
Are you the man who shot the duck here yesterday 
morning?” 

“ I am, sir,” answered the little man, proud that 
he had shot something besides a wig. 

“Well, you shall pay for that also,” said Mr. 
Sprigg; “for it belonged to me, and I ’ll have the 
money or I ’ll put you in jail! ” 

The little man did not want to go to jail, so with 
a heavy heart he paid for the wig and the duck, and 
then took his way sorrowfully homeward. 

He did not tell Joan of his meeting with Mr. 
Sprigg; he only said he could not find a drake. But 
she knew all about it when the paper came out, for 
this is what it said on the front page: 

There was a little man and he had a little gun, 

And the bullets were made of lead, lead, lead. 

He shot Johnny Sprigg through the middle of his wig, 

And knocked it right off from his head, head, head. 

The little man was so angry at this, and at the 
laughter of all the men he met, that he traded his gun 
off" for a lawn-mower, and resolved never to go hunt- 
ing again. 


[ J 3 6 ] 


He had the little duck he had shot made into a 
pie, and he and Joan ate it; but he did not enjoy it 
very much. 

“ This duck cost me twelve dollars,” he said to his 
loving wife, “for that is the sum Johnny Sprigg made 
me pay; and it ’s a very high price for one little duck 
— do n’t you think so, Joan? ” 


The Little 
Man and 
His Little 
Gun 


[ *37 3 


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Hickory, Dickory, Dock 


















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Hickory, Dickory, Dock 

Hickory, Dickory, Dock! 

The mouse ran up the clock. 

The clock struck one. 

The mouse ran down. 

Hickory, Dickory, Dock! 

W ITHIN the hollow wall of an old brick man- 
sion, away up the near the roof, there lived a 
family of mice. It was a snug little home, 
pleasant and quiet, and as dark as any mouse could 
desire. Mamma Mouse liked it because, as she said, 
the draught that came through the rafters made it 
cool in summer, and they were near enough to the 
chimney to keep warm in winter-time. 

Besides the Mamma Mouse there were three chil- 
dren, named Hickory and Dickory and Dock. There 
had once been a Papa Mouse as well; but while he 
was hunting for food one night he saw a nice piece 
of cheese in a wire box, and attempted to get it. The 
minute he stuck his head into the box, however, it 
closed with a snap that nearly cut his head off, and 
when Mamma Mouse came down to look for him he 
was quite dead. 

Mamma Mouse had to bear her bitter sorrow all 
alone, for the children were too young at that time to 
[hi] 


Hickory, 

Hickory, 

Dock 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


appreciate their loss. She felt that people were very 
cruel to kill a poor mouse for wishing to get food for 
himself and his family. There is nothing else for a 
mouse to do but take what he can find, for mice can- 
not earn money, as people do, and they must live in 
some way. 

But Mamma Mouse was a brave mouse, and knew 
that it was now her duty to find food for her little 
ones; so she dried her eyes and went bravely to work 
gnawing through the base-board that separated the 
pantry from the wall. It took her some time to do 
this, for she could only work at night. Mice like to 
sleep during the day and work at night, when there 
are no people around to interrupt them, and even the 
cat is fast asleep. Some mice run about in the day- 
time, but they are not very wise mice who do this. 

At last Mamma Mouse gnawed a hole through the 
base-board large enough for her to get through into 
the pantry, and then her disappointment was great to 
find the bread jar covered over with a tin pan. 

“ How thoughtless people are to put things where 
a hungry mouse cannot get at them,” said Mamma 
Mouse to herself, with a sigh. But just then she 
espied a barrel of flour standing upon the floor; and 
that gave her new courage, for she knew she could 
easily gnaw through that, and the flour would do to 
eat just as well as the bread. 

It was now nearly daylight, so she decided to leave 
the attack upon the flour barrel until the next night; 

[142] 


and gathering up for the children a few crumbs that Hickory, 
were scattered about, she ran back into the wall and Drckory, 
scrambled up to her nest. 

Hickory and Dickory and Dock were very glad to 
get the crumbs, for they were hungry; and when they 
had breakfasted they all curled up alongside their 
mother and slept soundly throughout the day. 

“ Be good children,” said Mamma Mouse the next 
evening, as she prepared for her journey to the pantry, 

“ and do n’t stir out of your nest till I come back. I 
am in hopes that after to-night we shall not be hungry 
for a long time, as I shall gnaw a hole at the back of 
the flour barrel, where it will not be discovered.” 

She kissed each one of them good-bye and ran 
down the wall on her errand. 

When they were left alone Hickory wanted to go 
to sleep again, but little Dock was wide awake, and 
tumbled around so in the nest that his brothers were 
unable to sleep. 

“I wish I could go with mother some night,” said 
Dock, “it’s no fun to stay here all the time.” 

“ She will take us when we are big enough,” 
replied Dickory. 

“ We are big enough now,” declared Dock, “ and 
if I knew my way I would go out into the world and 
see what it looks like.” 

“I know a way out,” said Hickory, “but mamma 
would n’t like it if we should go without her permis- 
sion.” 


[143] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“She needn’t know anything about it,” declared 
the naughty Dock, “for she will be busy at the flour- 
barrel all the night. Take us out for a little walk, 
Hick, if you know the way.” 

“Yes do,” urged Dickory. 

“Well,” said Hickory, “I’d like a little stroll 
myself, so if you ’ll promise to be very careful, and 
not get into any mischief, I ’ll take you through the 
hole that I have discovered.” 

So the three little mice started off’, with Hickory 
showing the way, and soon came to a crack in the 
wall. Hickory stuck his head through, and finding 
everything quiet, for the family of people that lived in 
the house were fast asleep, he squeezed through the 
crack, followed by his two brothers. Their little 
hearts beat very fast, for they knew if they were dis- 
covered they would have to run for their lives; but 
the house was so still they gained courage, and crept 
along over a thick carpet until they came to a stair- 
way. 

“What shall we do now?” whispered Hickory to 
his brothers. 

“ Let ’s go down,” replied Dock. 

So, very carefully, they descended the stairs and 
reached the hallway of the house, and here they were 
much surprised by all they saw. 

There was a big rack for hats and coats, and an 
umbrella stand, and two quaintly carved chairs, and, 
most wonderful of all, a tall clock that stood upon 
[ H4] 


the floor and ticked out the minutes in a grave and 
solemn voice. 

When the little mice first heard the ticking of the 
clock they were inclined to be frightened, and huddled 
close together upon the bottom stair. 

“What is it? ” asked Dickory, in an awed whisper. 

“ I do n’t know,” replied Hickory, who was him- 
self rather afraid. 

“Is it alive?” asked Dock. 

“ I do n’t know,” again answered Hickory. 

Then, seeing that the clock paid no attention to 
them, but kept ticking steadily away and seemed to 
mind its own business, they plucked up courage and 
began running about. 

Presently Dickory uttered a delighted squeal that 
brought his brothers to his side. There in a corner 
lay nearly the half of a bun which little May had 
dropped when nurse carried her upstairs to bed. It 
was a great discovery for the three mice, and they ate 
heartily until the last crumb had disappeared. 

“This is better than a cupboard or a pantry,” said 
Dock, when they had finished their supper, “and I 
should n’t be surprised if there were plenty more good 
things around if we only hunt for them.” 

But they could find nothing more, for all the 
doors leading into the hall were closed, and at last 
Dock came to the clock and looked at it curiously. 

“It doesn’t seem to be alive,” he thought, “al- 


Hickory, 
Dickory , 
Dock 


[ 145 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


though it does make so much noise. I ’m going 
behind it to see what I can find.” 

He found nothing except a hole that led to the 
inside of the clock, and into this he stuck his head. 
He could hear the ticking plainer than ever now, but 
looking way up to the top of the clock he saw some- 
thing shining brightly, and thought it must be good 
to eat if he could only get at it. Without saying 
anything to his brothers, Dock ran up the sides of the 
clock until he came to the works, and he was just 
about to nibble at a glistening wheel, to see what it 
tasted like, when suddenly “ Bang! ” went the clock. 

It was one o’clock, and the clock had only struck 
the hour, but the great gong was just beside Dock’s 
ear and the noise nearly deafened the poor little 
mouse. He gave a scream of terror and ran down 
the clock as fast as he could go. When he reached 
the hall he heard his brothers scampering up the stairs, 
and after them he ran with all his might. 

It was only when they were safe in. their nest again 
that they stopped to breathe, and their little hearts 
beat fast for an hour afterward, so great had been their 
terror. 

When Mamma Mouse came back in the morning, 
bringing a quantity of nice flour with her for break- 
fast, they told her of their adventure. 

She thought they had been punished enough 
already for their disobedience, so she did not scold 
them, but only said, 


“You see, my dears, your mother knew best when 
she told you not to stir from the nest. Children 
sometimes think they know more than their parents, 
but this adventure should teach you always to obey 
your mother. The next time you run away you may 
fare worse than you did last night; remember your 
poor father’s fate.” 

But Hickory and Dickory and Dock did not run 
away again. 


Hickory, 

Dickory, 

Dock 


C>47] 





















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Little Bo-Peep 


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Little Bo-Peep 

O N the beautiful, undulating hills of Sussex feed Little 

many flocks of sheep, which are tended by Bo-Peep 
many shepherds and shepherdesses, and one of 
these flocks used to be cared for by a poor woman 
who supported herself and her little girl by this means. 

They lived in a small cottage nestled at the foot 
of one of the hills, and each morning the mother took 
her crook and started out with her sheep, that they 
might feed upon the tender, juicy grasses with which 
the hills abounded. The little girl usually accom- 
panied her mother and sat by her side upon the grassy 
mounds and watched her care for the ewes and lambs, 
so that in time she herself grew to be a very proficient 
shepherdess. 

So when the mother became too old and feeble to 
leave her cottage, Little Bo-Peep (as she was called) 
decided that she was fully able to manage the flocks 
herself. She was a little mite of a child, with flowing 
nut-brown locks and big gray eyes that charmed all 
who gazed into their innocent depths. She wore a 
light gray frock, fastened about the waist with a pretty 
pink sash, and there were white ruffles around her 
neck and pink ribbons in her hair. 

[ 151] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


All the shepherds and shepherdesses upon the hills, 
both young and old, soon came to know Little Bo- 
Peep very well indeed, and there were many willing 
hands to aid her if (which was not often) she needed 
their assistance. 

Bo-Peep usually took her sheep to the side of a 
high hill above the cottage, and allowed them to eat 
the rich grass while she herself sat upon a mound and, 
laying aside her crook and her broad straw hat with 
its pink ribbons, devoted her time to sewing and 
mending stockings for her aged mother. 

One day, while thus occupied, she heard a voice 
beside her say: 

“Good morning, Little Bo-Peep!” and looking 
up the girl saw a woman standing near her and lean- 
ing upon a short stick. She was bent nearly double 
by weight of many years, her hair was white as snow 
and her eyes as black as coals. Deep wrinkles seamed 
her face and hands, while her nose and chin were so 
pointed that they nearly met. She was not pleasant 
to look upon, but Bo-Peep had learned to be polite 
to the aged, so she answered, sweetly, 

“ Good morning, mother. Can I do anything for 
you?” 

“ No, dearie,” returned the woman, in a cracked 
voice, “but I will sit by your side and rest for a 
time.” 

The girl made room on the mound beside her, and 
the stranger sat down and watched in silence the busy 
[ ! 52 ] 


fingers sew up the seams of the new frock she was Little 
making. Bo-Peep 

By and by the woman asked, 

“ Why do you come out here to sew ? ” 

“ Because I am a shepherdess,” replied the girl. 

“ But where is your crook? ” 

“On the grass beside me.” 

“And where are your sheep?” 

Bo-Peep looked up and could not see them. 

“ They must have strayed over the top of the hill,” 
she said, “and I will go and seek them.” 

“Do not be in a hurry,” croaked the old woman; 

“they will return presently without your troubling to 
find them.” 

“Do you think so?” asked Bo-Peep. 

“Of course; do not the sheep know you?” 

“Oh, yes; they know me every one.” 

“ And do not you know the sheep ? ” 

“ I can call every one by name,” said Bo-Peep, 
confidently; “for though I am so young a shepherdess 
I am fond of my sheep and know all about them.” 

The old woman chuckled softly, as if the answer 
amused her, and replied, 

“ No one knows all about anything, my dear.” 

“ But I know all about my sheep,” protested Little 
Bo-Peep. 

“ Do you, indeed ? Then you are wiser that most 
people. And if you know all about them, you also 
know they will come home of their own accord, and 
[iS3] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


I have no doubt they will all be wagging their tails 
behind them, as usual.” 

“ Oh,” said Little Bo-Peep, in surprise, “ do they 
wag their tails? I never noticed that!” 

“Indeed!” excaimed the old woman, “then you 
are not very observing for one who knows all about 
sheep. Perhaps you have never noticed their tails at 
all.” 


“No,” answered Bo-Peep, thoughtfully, “I don’t 
know that I ever have.” 

The woman laughed so hard at this reply that she 
began to cough, and this made the girl remember that 
her flock had strayed away. 

“ I really must go and find my sheep,” she said, 
rising to her feet, “and then I shall be sure to notice 
their tails, and see if they wag them.” 

“Sit still, my child,” said the old woman, “I am 
going over the hill-top myself, and I will send the 
sheep back to you.” 

So she got upon her feet and began climbing the 
hill, and the girl heard her saying, as she walked 
away, 

"Little Bo-Peep has lost her sheep, 

And does n’t know where to find ’em. 

But leave ’em alone, and they *11 come home. 

All wagging their tails behind ’em.” 


Little Bo-Peep sat still and watched the old 
woman toil slowly up the hill-side and disappear over 
the top. By and by she thought, “ very soon I 

C 1 54 ] 


shall see the sheep coming back;” but time passed Little 
away and still the errant flock failed to make its Bo-Peep 
appearance. 

Soon the head of the little shepherdess began to 
nod, and presently, still thinking of her sheep, 

Little Bo-Peep fell fast asleep. 

And dreamt she heard them bleating; 

But when she awoke she found it a joke. 

For still they were a-fleeting. 

The girl now became quite anxious, and wondered 
why the old woman had not driven her flock over the 
hill. But as it was now time for luncheon she opened 
her little basket and ate of the bread and cheese and 
cookies she had brought with her. After she had 
finished her meal and taken a drink of cool water 
from a spring near by, she decided she would not wait 
any longer. 

So up she took her little crook. 

Determined for to find them, 

and began climbing the hill. 

When she got to the top there was never a sight 
of sheep about — only a green valley and another hill 
beyond. 

Now really alarmed for the- safety of her charge, 
Bo-Peep hurried into the valley and up the farther 
hill-side. Panting and tired she reached the summit, 
and, pausing breathlessly, gazed below her. 

Quietly feeding upon the rich grass was her truant 

C 155 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


flock, looking as peaceful and innocent as if it had 
never strayed away from its gentle shepherdess. 

Bo-Peep uttered a cry of joy and hurried toward 
them; but when she came near she stopped in amaze- 
ment and held up her little hands with a pretty 
expression of dismay. She had 

Found them, indeed, but it made her heart bleed. 

For they’d left their tails behind them! 

Nothing was left to each sheep but a wee little 
stump where a tail should be, and Little Bo-Peep was 
so heart-broken that she sat down beside them and 
sobbed bitterly. 

But after awhile the tiny maid realized that all her 
tears would not bring back the tails to her lambkins; 
so she plucked up courage and dried her eyes and 
arose from the ground just as the old woman hobbled 
up to her. 

“ So you have found your sheep, dearie,” she said, 
in her cracked voice. 

“ Yes,” replied Little Bo-Peep, with difficulty 
repressing a sob; “but look, mother! They’ve all 
left their tails behind them ! ” 

“Why, so they have!’’ exclaimed the old woman; 
and then she began to laugh as if something pleased 
her. 

“What do you suppose has become of their tails?” 
asked the girl. 

“ Oh, some one has probably cut them off. They 
[156] 


make nice tippets in winter-time, you know;” and Little 
then she patted the child upon her head and walked Bo-Peep 
away down the valley. 

Bo-Peep was much grieved over the loss that had 
befallen her dear sheep, and so, driving them before 
her, she wandered around to see if by any chance she 
could find the lost tails. 

But soon the sun began to sink over the hill-tops, 
and she knew she must take her sheep home before 
night overtook them. 

She did not tell her mother of her misfortune, for 
she feared the old shepherdess would scold her, and 
Bo-Peep had fully decided to seek for the tails and 
find them before she related the story of their loss to 
any one. 

Each day for many days after that Little Bo-Peep 
wandered about the hills seeking the tails of her sheep, 
and those who met her wondered what had happened 
to make the sweet little maid so anxious. But there 
is an end to all troubles, no matter how severe they 
may seem to be, and 

It happened one day, as Bo-Peep did stray 
Unto a meadow hard by, 

There she espied their tails side by side. 

All hung on a tree to dry! 

The little shepherdess was overjoyed at this discov- 
ery, and, reaching up her crook, she knocked the row 
of pretty white tails off the tree and gathered them 
up in her frock. But how to fasten them onto her 
[i57] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


sheep again was the question, and after pondering the 
matter for a time she became discouraged, and, think- 
ing she was no better off than before the tails were 
found, she began to weep and to bewail her mis- 
fortune. 

But amidst her tears she bethought herself of her 
needle and thread. 

“Why,” she exclaimed, smiling again, “I can sew 
them on, of course!” Then 

She heaved a sigh and wiped her eye 
And ran o’er hill and dale, oh. 

And tried what she could 
As a shepherdess should. 

To tack to each sheep its tail, oh. 

But the very first sheep she came to refused to 
allow her to sew on the tail, and ran away from her, 
and the others did the same, so that finally she was 
utterly discouraged. 

She was beginning to cry again, when the same 
old woman she had before met came hobbling to her 
side and asked, 

“ What are you doing with my cat tails ? ” 

“Your cat tails!” replied Bo-Peep, in surprise; 
“ what do you mean ? ” 

“Why, these tails are all cut from white pussy- 
cats, and I put them on the tree to dry. What are 
you doing with them?” 

“ I thought they belonged to my sheep,” answered 
Bo-Peep, sorrowfully; “but if they are really your 
[158] 


pussy-cat tails, I must hunt until I find those that Little 
belong to my sheep.” Bo-Peep 

“My dear,” said the old woman, “I have been 
deceiving you; you said you knew all about your 
sheep, and I wanted to teach you a lesson. For, 
however wise we may be, no one in this world knows 
all about anything. Sheep do not have long tails- — 
there is only a little stump to answer for a tail. 

Neither do rabbits have tails, nor bears, nor many 
other animals. And if you had been observing you 
would have known all this when I said the sheep 
would be wagging their tails behind them, and then 
you would not have passed all those days in searching 
for what is not to be found. So now, little one, run 
away home, and try to be more thoughtful in the 
future. Your sheep will never miss the tails, for they 
have never had them.” 

And now 

Little Bo-Peep no more did weep; 

My tale of tails ends here. 

Each cit has one, 

But sheep have none; 

Which, after all, is queer! 


[ 159] 



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The Story of 
Tommy Tucker 


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The Story of Tommy Tucker 

Little Tommy Tucker sang for his supper. 

What did he sing for? white bread and butter. 

How could he cut it, without any knife? 

How could he marry, without any wife? 

L ITTLE TOMMY TUCKER was a waif of the The Story 
streets. He never remembered having a father of Tommy 
or mother or any one to care for him, and so 
he learned to care for himself. He ate whatever he 
could get, and slept wherever night overtook him — in 
an old barrel, a cellar, or, when fortune favored him, 
he paid a penny for a cot in some rude lodging-house. 

H is life about the streets taught him early how to 
earn a living by doing odd jobs, and he learned to be 
sharp in his speech and wise beyond his years. 

One morning Tommy crawled out from a box in 
which he had slept over night, and found that he was 
hungry. His last meal had consisted of a crust of 
bread, and he was a growing boy with an appetite. 

He had been unable to earn any money for several 
days, and this morning life looked very gloomy to 
him. He started out to seek for work or to beg 
a breakfast; but luck was against him, and he was 
unsuccessful. By noon he had grown more hungry 
[163] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


than before, and stood before a bake-shop for a long 
time, looking wistfully at the good things behind the 
window-panes, and wishing with all his heart he had a 
ha’penny to buy a bun. 

And yet it was no new thing for Little Tommy 
Tucker to be hungry, and he never thought of 
despairing. He sat down upon a curb-stone, and 
thought what was best to be done. Then he remem- 
bered he had frequently begged a meal at one of the 
cottages that stood upon the outskirts of the city, and 
so he turned his steps in that direction. 

“I have had neither breakfast nor dinner,” he said 
to himself, “and I must surely find a supper some- 
where, or I shall not sleep much to-night. It is no 
fun to be hungry.” 

So he walked on until he came to a dwelling- 
house where a goodly company sat upon a lawn and 
beneath a veranda. It was a pretty place, and was 
the home of a fat alderman who had been married 
that very day. 

The alderman was in a merry mood, and seeing 
Tommy standing without the gate he cried to him, 

“ Come here, my lad, and sing us a song.” 

Tommy at once entered the grounds, and came to 
where the fat alderman was sitting beside his blushing 
bride. 

“Can you sing?” enquired the alderman. 

“No,” answered Tommy, earnestly, “but I can 
eat.” 


[164] 


“ Ho, ho!” laughed the alderman, “that is a very 
ordinary accomplishment. Anyone can eat.” 

“If it please you, sir, you are wrong,” replied 
Tommy, “for I have been unable to eat all day.” 

“And why is that?” asked the alderman. 

“ Because I have had nothing to put to my mouth. 
But now that I have met so kind a gentleman, I am 
sure that I shall have a good supper.” 

The alderman laughed again at this shrewd answer, 
and said, 

“You shall have supper, no doubt; but you must 
sing a song for the company first, and so earn your 
food.” 

Tommy shook his head sadly. 

“ I do not know any song, sir,” he said. 

The alderman called a servant and whispered 
something in his ear. The servant hastened away, and 
soon returned bearing upon a tray a huge slice of 
white bread and butter. White bread was a rare treat 
in those days, as nearly all the people ate black bread 
baked from rye or barley flour. 

“ Now,” said the alderman, placing the tray beside 
him, “ you shall have this slice of white bread and 
butter when you have sung us a song, and complied 
with one condition.” 

“And what is that condition?” asked Tommy. 

“ I will tell you when we have heard the song,” 
replied the fat alderman, who had decided to have 
some amusement at the boy’s expense. 

[i6j] 


The Story 
of Tommy 
Tucker 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


Tommy hesitated, but when he glanced at the 
white bread and butter his mouth watered in spite of 
himself, and he resolved to compose a song, since he 
did not know how to sing any other. 

So he took off his cap, and standing before the 
company he sang as follows: 

<C A bumble-bee lit on a hollyhock flower 
That was wet with the rain of a morning shower. 

While the honey he sipped 
His left foot slipped, 

And he couldn’t fly again for half an hour!” 

“Good!” cried the alderman, after the company 
had kindly applauded Tommy. “I can’t say much 
for the air, nor yet for the words; but it was not so 
bad as it might have been. Give us another verse.” 

So Tommy pondered a moment, and then sang 
again : 

“A spider threw its web so high 
It caught on a moon in a cloudy sky. 

The moon whirled round. 

And down to the ground 
Fell the web, and captured a big blue fly!” 

“Why, that is fine!” roared the fat alderman. 
“You improve as you go on, so give us another verse.” 

“I don’t know any more,” said Tommy, “and I 
am very hungry.” 

“One more verse,” persisted the man, “and then 
you shall have the bread and butter upon the con- 
dition.” 

So Tommy sang the following verse: 

[ 166 ] 



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aM«Cifii 




“A big frog lived in a slimy bog, 


And caught a cold in an awful fog. 
The cold got worse, 

The frog got hoarse, 

Till croaking he scared a polliwog! ,, 


The Story 
of Tommy 
Tucker 


“You are quite a poet,” declared the alderman; 
“and now you shall have the white bread upon one 
condition.” 

“What is it?” said Tommy, anxiously. 

“ That you cut the slice into four parts.” 

“But I have no knife! ” remonstrated the boy. 

“ But that is the condition,” insisted the alderman. 
“If you want the bread you must cut it.” 

“Surely you do not expect me to cut the bread 
without any knife!” said Tommy. 

“Why not?” asked the alderman, winking his eye 
at the company. 

“ Because it cannot be done. How, let me ask 
you, sir, could you have married without any wife?” 

“Ha, ha, ha!” laughed the jolly alderman; and 
he was so pleased with Tommy’s apt reply that he 
gave him the bread at once, and a knife to cut it 
with. 

“Thank you, sir,” said Tommy; “now that I 
have the knife it is easy enough to cut the bread, and 
I shall now be as happy as you are with your beauti- 
ful wife.” 

The alderman’s wife blushed at this, and whispered 
to her husband. The alderman nodded in reply, and 
watched Tommy carefully as he ate his supper. When 


[ i 6 7 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


the boy had finished his bread — which he did very 
quickly, you may be sure, — the man said, 

“ How would you like to live with me and be my 
servant?” 

Little Tommy Tucker had often longed for just 
such a place, where he could have three meals each 
day to eat and a good bed to sleep in at night, so he 
answered, 

“ I should like it very much, sir.” 

So the alderman took Tommy for his servant, and 
dressed him in a smart livery; and soon the boy 
showed by his bright ways and obedience that he was 
worthy any kindness bestowed upon him. 

He often carried the alderman’s wig when his 
master attended the town meetings, and the mayor of 
the city, who was a good man, was much taken with 
his intelligent face. So one day he said to the aider- 
man, 

“ I have long wanted to adopt a son, for I have no 
children of my own; but I have not yet been able to 
find a boy to suit me. That lad of yours looks bright 
and intelligent, and he seems a well-behaved boy into 
the bargain.” 

“ He is all that you say,” returned the alderman, 
“and would be a credit to you should you adopt 
him.” 

“ But before I adopt a son,” continued the mayor, 
“I intend to satisfy myself that he is both wise and 
shrewd enough to make good use of my money when 
[168] 


I am gone. No fool will serve my purpose; there- 
fore I shall test the boy’s wit before I decide.” 

“That is fair enough,” answered the alderman; 
“but in what way will you test his wit?” 

“ Bring him to my house to-morrow, and you shall 
see,” said the mayor. 

So the next day the alderman, followed by Tommy 
and a little terrier dog that was a great pet of his 
master, went to the grand dwelling of the mayor. 
The mayor also had a little terrier dog, which was 
very fond of him and followed him wherever he went. 

When Tommy and the alderman reached the 
mayor’s house the mayor met them at the door and 
said: 

“Tommy, I am going up the street, and the 
alderman is going in the opposite direction. I want 
you to keep our dogs from following us; but you 
must not do it by holding them.” 

“Very well, sir,” replied Tommy; and as the 
mayor started one way and the alderman the other, 
he took out his handkerchief and tied the tails of the 
two dogs together. Of course each dog started to 
follow its master; but as they were about the same size 
and strength, and each pulled in a different direction, 
the result was that they remained in one place, and 
could not move either one way or the other. 

“That was well done,” said the mayor, coming 
back again; « but tell me, can you put my cart before 
my horse and take me to ride? ” 

[169] 


The Story 
of Tommy 
Tucker 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“Certainly, sir,” replied Tommy; and going to 
the mayor’s stable he put the harness on the nag and 
then led him head-first into the shafts, instead of 
backing him into them, as is the usual way. After 
fastening the shafts to the horse, he mounted upon 
the animal’s back, and away they started, pushing the 
cart before the horse. 

“That was easy,” said Tommy. “If your honor 
will get into the cart I ’ll take you to ride.” But the 
mayor did not ride, although he was pleased at 
Tommy’s readiness in solving a difficulty. 

After a moment’s thought he bade Tommy follow 
him into the house, where he gave him a cupful 
of water, saying, 

“ Let me see you drink up this cup of water.” 

Tommy hesitated a moment, for he knew the 
mayor was trying to catch him; then, going to a 
corner of the room, he set down the cup and stood 
upon his head in the corner. He now carefully raised 
the cup to his lips and slowly drank the water until 
the cup was empty. After this he regained his feet, 
and, bowing politely to the mayor, he said, 

“ The water is drunk up, your honor.” 

“ But why did you stand on your head to do it? ” 
enquired the alderman, who had watched the act in 
astonishment. 

“ Because otherwise I would have drunk the water 
down, and not up,” replied Tommy. 

The mayor was now satisfied that Tommy was 
[ i7°] 


shrewd enough to do him honor, so he immediately 
took him to live in the great house as his adopted son, 
and he was educated by the best masters the city 
afforded. 

And Tommy Tucker became in after years not 
only a great, but a good man, and before he died was 
himself mayor of the city, and was known by the 
name of Sir Thomas Tucker. 


The Story 
of Tommy 
Tucker 


[ I 7 I ] 


I 

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Pussy-cat Mew 






























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Pussy-cat Mew 

“ Pussy-cat , Pussy-cat , where do you go f” 

“ To London , to visit the palace , jw know.” 

“ Pussy-cat Mew , will you come back again 
“ Oh, yes/ I'll scamper with might and with main!” 

P USSY-CAT MEW set off on her way, 

Stepping quite softly and feeling quite gay. 
Smooth was the road, so she traveled at ease, 
Warmed by the sunshine and fanned by the breeze. 

Over the hills to the valleys below, 

Through the deep woods where the soft mosses grow, 
Skirting the fields, with buttercups dotted, 

Swiftly our venturesome Pussy-cat trotted. 

Sharp watch she kept when a village she neared, 

For boys and their mischief our Pussy-cat feared. 
Often she crept through the grasses so deep 
To pass by a dog that was lying asleep. 

Once, as she walked through a sweet-clover field, 
Something beside her affrightedly squealed, 

And swift from her path there darted away 
A tiny field-mouse, with a coat of soft gray. 

[i7S] 


Pussy-cat 

Mew 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“Now here,” thought our Pussy, “is chance for a dinner; 
The one that runs fastest must surely be winner! ” 

So quickly she started the mouse to give chase, 

And over the clover they ran a great race. 

But just when it seemed that Pussy would win, 

The mouse spied a hole and quickly popped in; 

And so he escaped, for the hole was so small 
That Pussy-cat could n’t squeeze in it at all. 

So, softly she crouched, and with eyes big and round 
Quite steadily watched that small hole in the ground. 
“This mouse really thinks he ’s escaped me,” she said, 
“But I ’ll catch him sure if he sticks out his head! ” 

But while she was watching the poor mouse’s plight, 

A deep growl behind made her jump with affright; 

She gave a great cry, and then started to run 
As swift as a bullet that’s shot from a gun! 

“Meow! Oh, meow!” our poor Puss did say; 

“ Bow-wow ! ” cried the dog, who was not far away. 
O’er meadows and ditches they scampered apace, 

O’er fences and hedges they kept up the race! 

Then Pussy-cat Mew saw before her a tree, 

And knew that a safe place of refuge ’t would be; 

So far up the tree with a bound she did go, 

And left the big dog to growl down below. 

[ 176 ] 


But now, by good fortune, a man came that way, 

And called to the dog, who was forced to obey; 

But Puss did not come down the tree till she knew 
That the man and the dog were far out of view. 

Pursuing her way, at nightfall she came 
To London, a town you know well by name; 

And wandering ’round in byway and street, 

A strange Pussy-cat she happened to meet. 

“ Good evening,” said Pussy-cat Mew. “ Can you tell 
In which of these houses the Queen may now dwell? 

I ’m a stranger in town, and I ’m anxious to see 
What sort of a person a real Queen may be.” 

“My friend,” said the other, “you really must know 
It isn’t permitted that strangers should go 
Inside of the palace, unless they ’re invited, 

And stray Pussy-cats are apt to be slighted. 

« By good luck, however, I ’m quite well aware 
Of a way to the palace by means of a stair 
That never is guarded; so just come with me, 

And a glimpse of the Queen you shall certainly see.” 

Puss thanked her new friend, and together they stole 
To the back of the palace, and crept through a hole 
In the fence, and quietly came to the stair 
Which the stranger Pussy-cat promised was there. 
[i77] 


Pussy-cat 

Mew 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“ Now here I must leave you,” the strange Pussy said, 
“ So do n’t be ’fraid-cat, but go straight ahead, 

And do n’t be alarmed if by chance you are seen, 

For people will think you belong to the Queen.” 

So Pussy-cat Mew did as she had been told, 

And walked through the palace with manner so bold 
She soon reached the room where the Queen sat in state, 
Surrounded by lords and by ladies so great. 

And there in the corner our Pussy sat down, 

And gazed at the scepter and blinked at the crown, 
And eyed the Queen’s dress, all purple and gold; 
Which was surely a beautiful sight to behold. 

But all of a sudden she started, for there 

Was a little gray mouse, right under the chair 

Where her Majesty sat, and Pussy well knew 

She ’d scream with alarm if the mouse met her view. 

So up toward the chair our Pussy-cat stole, 

But the mouse saw her coming and ran for its hole; 
But Pussy ran after, and during the race 
A wonderful, terrible panic took place! 

The ladies all jumped on their chairs in alarm, 

The lords drew their swords to protect them from harm, 
And the Queen gave a scream and fainted away — 

A very undignified act, I must say. 

[i?8] 


And some one cried “Burglars!” and some one cried 
“Treason ! ” 

And some one cried “Murder!” but none knew the 
reason ; 

And some one cried “ Fire ! they are burning the house ! ” 
And some one cried “Silence! it’s only a mouse!” 

But Pussy-cat Mew was so awfully scared 
By the shouting and screaming, no longer she dared 
To stay in the room; so without more delay 
She rushed from the palace and scampered awayl 

So bristling her fur, and with heart beating fast, 

She came to the road leading homeward at last. 
“What business,” she thought, “has a poor country cat 
To visit a city of madmen like that? 

“Straight homeward I ’ll go, where I am well fed, 
Where mistress is kind, and soft is my bed; 

Let other cats travel, if they wish to roam, 

But as for myself, I shall now stay at home.” 

And now over hills and valleys she ran, 

And journeyed as fast as a Pussy-cat can; 

Till just as the dawn of the day did begin 
She, safely at home, stole quietly in. 


Pussy-cat 

Mew 


[ l ~I9 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


And there was the fire, with the pot boiling on it, 
And there was the maid, in the blue checkered bonnet, 
And there was the corner where Pussy oft basked, 

And there was the mistress, who eagerly asked: 

“ Pussy-cat , Pussy-cat , where have you been f ” 

“ I 've been to London, to visit the Sfueen.” 

“ Pussy-cat , Pussy-cat , what did you there ?” 

“I frightened a little mouse under her chair /” 


t 180 ] 


How the Beggars 
Came to Town 




How the Beggars Came to Town 

Hark, hark, the dogs do bark, 

The beggars are coming to town: 

Some in rags, and some in tags. 

And some in velvet gown. 

V ERY fair and sweet was little Prince Lilimond, 
and few could resist his soft, pleading voice and 
gentle blue eyes. And as he stood in the pres- 
ence of the King, his father, and bent his knee grace- 
fully before His Majesty, the act was so courteous 
and dignified it would have honored the oldest noble- 
man of the court. 

The King was delighted, and for a time sat silently 
regarding his son and noting every detail of his appear- 
ance, from the dark velvet suit with its dainty ruffles 
and collar to the diamond buckles on the little shoes, 
and back again to the flowing curls that clustered 
thick about the bright, childish face. 

Well might any father be proud of so manly and 
beautiful a child, and the King’s heart swelled within 
him as he gazed upon his heir. 

“ Borland,” he said to the tutor, who stood mod- 
estly behind the Prince, “you may retire. I wish to 
speak privately with his royal highness.” 

[183] 


How the 
Beggars 
Came to 
Town 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


The tutor bowed low and disappeared within the 
ante-room, and the King continued, kindly, 

“ Come here, Lilimond, and sit beside me. Me- 
thinks you seem over-grave this morning.” 

“It is my birthday, Your Majesty,” replied the 
Prince, as he slowly obeyed his father and sat beside 
him upon the rich broidered cushions of the throne. 
“I am twelve years of age.” 

“So old!” said the King, smiling into the little 
face that was raised to his. “And is it the weight of 
years that makes you sad?” 

“No, Your Majesty; I long for the years to pass, 
that I may become a man, and take my part in the 
world’s affairs. It is the sad condition of my country 
which troubles me.” 

“Indeed!” exclaimed the King, casting a keen 
glance at his son. “Are you becoming interested in 
politics, then; or is there some grievous breach of 
court etiquette which has attracted your attention?” 

“ I know little of politics and less of the court, 
sire,” replied Lilimond; “it is the distress of the peo- 
ple that worries me.” 

“ The people ? Of a surety, Prince, you are better 
posted than am I, since of the people and their affairs 
I know nothing at all. I have appointed officers to 
look after their interests, and therefore I have no 
cause to come into contact with them myself. But 
what is amiss? ” 

“They are starving,” said the Prince, looking at his 
[ 184] 


father very seriously; “the country is filled with 
beggars, who appeal for charity, since they are unable 
otherwise to procure food.” 

“Starving!” repeated the King; “surely you are 
misinformed. My Lord Chamberlain told me but this 
morning the people were loyal and contented, and my 
Lord of the Treasury reports that all taxes and tithes 
have been paid, and my coffers are running over.” 

“Your Lord Chamberlain is wrong, sire,” returned 
the Prince; “my tutor, Borland, and I have talked 
with many of these beggars the past few days, and we 
find the tithes and taxes which have enriched you 
have taken the bread from their wives and children.” 

“So!” exclaimed the King. “We must examine 
into this matter.” He touched a bell beside him, and 
when a retainer appeared directed his Chamberlain 
and his Treasurer to wait upon him at once. 

The Prince rested his head upon his hand and 
waited patiently, but the King was very impatient 
indeed till the high officers of the court stood before 
him. Then said the King, addressing his Chamberlain, 
“ Sir, I am informed my people are murmuring at 
my injustice. Is it true?” 

The officer cast an enquiring glance at the Prince, 
who met his eyes gravely, before he replied, 

“ The people always murmur, Your Majesty. They 
are many, and not all can be content, even when 
ruled by so wise and just a King. In every land and 
in every age there are those who rebel against the 
[185] 


How the 
Beggars 
Came to 
Town 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


laws, and the protests of the few are ever heard above 
the contentment of the many.” 

“I am told,” continued the King, severely, “that 
my country is overrun with beggars, who suffer for 
lack of the bread we have taken from them by our 
taxations. Is this true?” 

“ There are always beggars, Your Majesty, in every 
country,” replied the Chamberlain, “and it is their 
custom to blame others for their own misfortunes.” 

The King thought deeply for a moment; then he 
turned to the Lord of the Treasury. 

“Do we tax the poor?” he demanded. 

‘‘All are taxed, sire,” returned the Treasurer, who 
was pale from anxiety, for never before had the King 
so questioned him, “but from the rich we take much, 
from the poor very little.” 

“ But a little from the poor man may distress him, 
while the rich subject would never feel the loss. Why 
do we tax the poor at all?” 

“Because, Your Majesty, should we declare the 
poor free from taxation all your subjects would at 
once claim to be poor, and the royal treasury would 
remain empty. And as none are so rich but there are 
those richer, how should we, in justice, determine 
which are the rich and which are the poor?” 

Again the King was silent while he pondered upon 
the words of the Royal Treasurer. Then, with a 
wave of his hand, he dismissed them, and turned to 
the Prince, saying, 


[ 1 86 ] 


“You have heard the wise words of my councilors, 
Prince. What have you to say in reply? ” 

“If you will pardon me, Your Majesty, I think 
you are wrong to leave the affairs of the people to 
others to direct. If you knew them as well as I do, 
you would distrust the words of your councilors, who 
naturally fear your anger more than they do that of 
your subjects.” 

“ If they fear my anger they will be careful to do 
no injustice to my people. Surely you cannot expect 
me to attend to levying the taxes myself,” continued 
the King, with growing annoyance. “What are my 
officers for, but to serve me? ” 

“They should serve you, it is true,” replied the 
Prince, thoughtfully, “ but they should serve the peo- 
ple as well.” 

“Nonsense!” answered the King; “you are too 
young as yet to properly understand such matters. 
And it is a way youth has to imagine it is wiser than 
age and experience combined. Still, I will investigate 
the subject further, and see that justice is done the 
poor.” 

“In the meantime,” said the Prince, “many will 
starve to death. Can you not assist these poor beg- 
gars at once?” 

“In what way?” demanded the King. 

“ By giving them money from your full coffers.” 

“ Nonsense ! ” again cried the King, this time with 
real anger; “you have heard what the Chamberlain 
[187] 


How the 
Beggars 
Came to 
Town 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


said: we always have beggars, and none, as yet, have 
starved to death. Besides, I must use the money for 
the grand ball and tourney next month, as I have 
promised the ladies of the court a carnival of unusual 
magnificence.” 

The Prince did not reply to this, but remained in 
silenf thought, wondering what he might do to ease 
the suffering he feared existed on every hand amongst 
the poor of the kingdom. He had hoped to persuade 
the King to assist these beggars, but since the inter- 
view with the officers of the court he had lost heart and 
despaired of influencing his royal father in any way. 

Suddenly the King spoke. 

“Let us dismiss this subject, Lilimond, for it only 
serves to distress us both, and no good can come of it. 
You have nearly made me forget it is your birthday. 
Now listen, my son: I am much pleased with you, 
and thank God that he has given me such a successor 
for my crown, for I perceive your mind is as beautiful 
as your person, and that you will in time be fitted to 
rule the land with wisdom and justice. Therefore I 
promise, in honor of your birthday, to grant any desire 
you may express, provided it lies within my power. 
Nor will I make any further condition, since I rely 
upon your judgment to select some gift I may be glad 
to bestow.” 

As the King spoke, Lilimond suddenly became 
impressed with an idea through which he might succor 
the poor, and therefore he answered, 

[188] 


“ Call in the ladies and gentlemen of the court, 
my father, and before them all will I claim your 
promise.” 

“Good!” exclaimed the King, who looked for 
some amusement in his son’s request; and at once he 
ordered the court to assemble. 

The ladies and gentlemen, as they filed into the 
audience chamber, were astonished to see the Prince 
seated upon the throne beside his sire, but being too 
well bred to betray their surprise they only wondered 
what amusement His Majesty had in store for them. 

When all were assembled, the Prince rose to his 
feet and addressed them. 

“ His Majesty the King, whose kindness of heart 
and royal condescension is well known to you all, hath 
but now promised me, seeing that it is my birthday, 
to grant any one request that I may prefer. Is it not 
true, Your Majesty?” 

“ It is true,” answered the King, smiling upon his 
son, and pleased to see him addressing the court so 
gravely and with so manly an air; “whatsoever the 
Prince may ask, that will I freely grant.” 

« Then, oh sire,” said the Prince, kneeling before 
the throne, “I ask that for the period of one day I 
may reign as King in your stead, having at my com- 
mand all kingly power and the obedience of all who 
owe allegiance to the crown!” 

For a time there was perfect silence in the court, 
the King growing red with dismay and embarrassment 
[ i8 9 ] 


How the 
Beggars 
Came to 
Town 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


and the courtiers waiting curiously his reply. Lili- 
mond still remained kneeling before the throne, and 
as the King looked upon him he realized it would be 
impossible to break his royal word. And the affair 
promised him amusement after all, so he quickly 
decided in what manner to reply. 

“Rise, oh Prince,” he said, cheerfully, “your 
request is granted. Upon what day will it please you 
to reign?” 

Lilimond arose to his feet. 

“ Upon the seventh day from this,” he answered. 

“ So be it,” returned the King. Then, turning to 
the royal herald he added, “ Make proclamation 
throughout the kingdom that on the seventh day from 
this Prince Lilimond will reign as King from sunrise 
till sunset. And whoever dares to disobey his com- 
mands will be guilty of treason and shall be punished 
with death!” 

The court was then dismissed, all wondering at 
this marvellous decree, and the Prince returned to his 
own apartment where his tutor, Borland, anxiously 
awaited him. 

Now this Borland was a man of good heart and 
much intelligence, but wholly unused to the ways of 
the world. He had lately noted, with much grief, 
the number of beggars who solicited alms as he walked 
out with the Prince, and he had given freely until his 
purse was empty. Then he talked long and earnestly 
with the Prince concerning this shocking condition in 
[ 190] 


the kingdom, never dreaming that his own generosity 
had attracted all the beggars of the city toward him 
and encouraged them to become more bold than usual. 

Thus was the young and tender-hearted Prince 
brought to a knowledge of all these beggars, and 
therefore it was that their condition filled him with 
sadness and induced him to speak so boldly to the 
King, his father. 

When he returned to Borland with the tidings that 
the King had granted him permission to rule for a 
day the kingdom, the tutor was overjoyed, and at 
once they began to plan ways for relieving all the 
poor of the country in that one day. 

For one thing, they dispatched private messengers 
to every part of the kingdom, bidding them tell each 
beggar they met to come to the Prince on that one 
day he should be King and he would relieve their 
wants, giving a broad gold piece to every poor man 
or woman who asked. 

For the Prince had determined to devote to this 
purpose the gold that filled the royal coffers; and as 
for the great ball and tourney the King had planned, 
why, that could go begging much better than the 
starving people. 

On the night before the day the Prince was to 
reign there was a great confusion of noise within the 
city, for beggars from all parts of the kingdom began 
to arrive, each one filled with joy at the prospect of 
receiving a piece of gold. 

[ I9 1 ] 


How the 
Beggars 
Came to 
Town 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


There was a continual tramp, tramp of feet, and a 
great barking of dogs, as all dogs in those days were 
trained to bark at every beggar they saw, and now it 
was difficult to restrain them. 

And the beggars came to town singly and by twos 
and threes, until hundreds were there to await the 
morrow. Some few were very pitiful to behold, being 
feeble and infirm from age and disease, dressed in rags 
and tags, and presenting an appearance of great dis- 
tress. But there were many more who were seem- 
ingly hearty and vigorous; and these were the lazy 
ones, who, not being willing to work, begged for a 
livelihood. 

And some there were dressed in silken hose and 
velvet gowns, who, forgetting all shame, and, eager for 
gold, had been led by the Prince’s offer to represent 
themselves as beggars, that they might add to their 
wealth without trouble or cost to themselves. 

The next morning, when the sun arose upon the 
eventful day, it found the Prince sitting upon the 
throne of his father, dressed in a robe of ermine and 
purple, a crown upon his flowing locks and the King’s 
scepter clasped tightly in his little hand. He was 
somewhat frightened at the clamor of the crowd with- 
out the palace, but Borland, who stood behind him, 
whispered, 

“ The more you can succor the greater will 
be your glory, and you will live in the hearts of 
your people as the kind Prince who relieved their suf- 
[ ! 9 2 ] 


ferings. Be of good cheer, Your Majesty, for all is 
well.” 

Then did the Prince command the Treasurer to 
bring before him the royal coffers, and to stand ready 
to present to' each beggar a piece of gold. The 
Treasurer was very unwilling to do this, but he was 
under penalty of death if he refused, and so the coffers 
were brought forth. 

“Your Majesty,” said the Treasurer, “if each of 
those who clamor without is to receive a piece of gold, 
there will not be enough within these coffers to go 
around. Some will receive and others be denied, 
since no further store of gold is to be had.” 

At this news the Prince was both puzzled and 
alarmed. 

“What are we to do? ” he asked of the tutor; but 
Borland was unable to suggest a remedy. 

Then said the aged Chamberlain, coming forward, 
and bowing low before the little King, 

“Your Majesty, I think I can assist you in your 
difficulty. You did but promise a piece of gold to 
those who are really suffering and in need, but so 
great is the greed of mankind that many without are 
in no necessity whatever, but only seek to enrich 
themselves at your expense. Therefore I propose you 
examine carefully each case that presents itself, and 
unless the beggar is in need of alms turn him away 
empty-handed, as being a fraud and a charlatan.” 

“Your counsel is wise, oh Chamberlain,” replied 
[i93] 


How the 
Beggars 
Came te 
Town 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


the Prince, after a moment’s thought; “and by turn- 
ing away the impostors we shall have gold enough for 
the needy. Therefore bid the guards to admit the 
beggars one by one.” 

When the first beggar came before him the Prince 
asked, 

“Are you in need? ” 

“I am starving, Your Majesty,” replied the man, 
in a whining tone. He was poorly dressed, but 
seemed strong and well, and the Prince examined him 
carefully for a moment. Then he answered the fel- 
low, saying, 

“ Since you are starving, go and sell the gold ring 
I see you are wearing upon your finger. I can assist 
only those who are unable to help themselves.” 

At this the man turned away muttering angrily, 
and the courtiers murmured their approval of the 
Prince’s wisdom. 

The next beggar was dressed in velvet, and the 
Prince sent him away with a sharp rebuke. But the 
third was a woman, old and feeble, and she blessed 
the Prince as she hobbled joyfully away with a broad 
gold-piece clasped tightly within her withered hand. 

The next told so pitiful a story that he also 
received a gold-piece; but as he turned away the 
Prince saw that beneath his robe his shoes were 
fastened with silver buckles, and so he commanded 
the guards to take away the gold and to punish the 
man for attempting to deceive his King. 

[ 194] 


And so many came to him that were found to be 
unworthy that he finally bade the guards proclaim to 
all who waited that any who should be found unde- 
serving would be beaten with stripes. 

That edict so frightened the imposters that they 
quickly fled, and only those few who were actually in 
want dared to present themselves before the King. 

And lo ! the task that had seemed too great for 
one day was performed in a few hours, and when all 
the needy had been provided for but one of the royal 
coffers had been opened, and that was scarcely empty! 

“What think you, Borland?” asked the Prince, 
anxiously, “have we done aright?” 

“ I have learned, Your Majesty,” answered the 
tutor, “that there is a great difference between those 
who beg and those who suffer for lack of bread. For, 
while all who needed aid were in truth beggars, not 
all the beggars needed aid; and hereafter I shall only 
give alms to those I know to be honestly in want.” 

“ It is wisely said, my friend,” returned the Prince, 
“and I feel I was wrong to doubt the wisdom of my 
father’s councilors. Go, Borland, and ask the King 
if he will graciously attend me here.” 

The King arrived and bowed smilingly before the 
Prince whom he had set to reign in his own place, 
and at once the boy arose and presented his sire with 
the scepter and crown, saying, 

“ Forgive me, oh my King, that I presumed to 
doubt the wisdom of your rule. For, though the sun 
[i9S] 


How the 
Beggars 
Came to 
Town 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


has not yet set, I feel that I am all unworthy to sit in 
your place, and so I willingly resign my power to 
your more skillful hands. And the coffers which I, 
in my ignorance, had determined to empty for the 
benefit of those unworthy, are still nearly full, and 
more than enough remains for the expenses of the 
carnival. Therefore forgive me, my father, and let me 
learn wisdom in the future from the justness of your 
rule.” 

Thus ended the reign of Prince Lilimond as King, 
and not till many years later did he again ascend the 
throne upon the death of his father. 

And really there was not much suffering in the 
kingdom at any time, as it was a prosperous country 
and well governed; for, if you look for beggars in any 
land you will find many, but if you look only for 
the deserving poor there are less, and these all the 
more worthy of succor. 

1 wish all those in power were as kind-hearted as 
little Prince Lilimond, and as ready to help the needy, 
for then there would be more light hearts in the 
world, since it is “better to give than to receive.” 


[196] 


Tom, the Piper’s Son 







' 


M 



Tom, the Piper’s Son 

Tom, Tom, the piper’s son. 

Stole a pig and away he run; 

The pig was eat and Tom was beat 
And Tom ran crying down the street. 

T HERE was not a worse vagabond in Shrewsbury Tom, the 
than old Barney the piper. He never did any Pip*** 
work except to play the pipes, and he played 
so badly that few pennies ever found their way into 
his pouch. It was whispered around that old Barney 
was not very honest, but he was so sly and cautious 
that no one had ever caught him in the act of steal- 
ing, although a good many things had been missed 
after they had fallen into the old man’s way. 

Barney had one son, named Tom; and they lived 
all alone in a little hut away at the end of the village 
street, for Tom’s mother had died when he was a 
baby. You may not suppose that Tom was a very 
good boy, since he had such a queer father; but 
neither was he very bad, and the worst fault he had 
was in obeying his father’s wishes when Barney wanted 
him to steal a chicken for their supper or a pot of 
potatoes for their breakfast. Tom did not like to 
steal, but he had no one to teach him to be honest, 

[ 1 99 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


and so, under his father’s guidance, he fell into bad 
ways. 

One morning 

Tom, Tom, the piper’s son, 

Was hungry when the day begun; 

He wanted a bun and asked for one, 

But soon found out that there were none. 

“What shall we do? ” he asked his father. 

“ Go hungry,” replied Barney, “ unless you want 
to take my pipes and play in the village. Perhaps 
they will give you a penny.” 

“No,” answered Tom, shaking his head; “no one 
will give me a penny for playing; but Farmer Bowser 
might give me a penny to stop playing, if I went to 
his house. He did last week, you know.” 

“You’d better try it,” said his father; “it’s 
mighty uncomfortable to be hungry.” 

So Tom took his father’s pipes and walked over 
the hill to Farmer Bowser’s house; for you must 
know that 

Tom, Tom, the piper’s son, 

Learned to play when he was young; 

But the only tune that he could play 
Was “Over the hills and far away.” 

And he played this one tune as badly as his father 
himself played, so that the people were annoyed when 
they heard him, and often begged him to stop. 

When he came to Farmer Bowser’s house, Tom 
started up the pipes and began to play with all his 
[ 200 ] 



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might. The farmer was in his woodshed, sawing 
wood, so he did not hear the pipes; and the farmer’s 
wife was deaf, and could not hear them. But a little 
pig that had strayed around in front of the house 
heard the noise, and ran away in great fear to the 
pigsty. 

Then, as Tom saw the playing did no good, he 
thought he would sing also, and therefore he began 
bawling, at the top of his voice, 

“Over the hills, not a great ways off, 

The woodchuck died with the whooping-cough!” 

The farmer had stopped sawing to rest, just then; 
and when he heard the singing he rushed out of the 
shed, and chased Tom away with a big stick of wood. 

The boy went back to his father, and said, sorrow- 
fully, for he was more hungry than before, 

“The farmer gave me nothing but a scolding; but 
there was a very nice pig running around the yard.” 

“ How big was it?” asked Barney. 

“ Oh, just about big enough to make a nice dinner 
for you and me.” 

The piper slowly shook his head; 

“’Tis long since I on pig have fed, 

And though I feel it’s wrong to steal, 

Roast pig is very nice,” he said. 

Tom knew very well what he meant by that, so 
he laid down the pipes, and went back to the farmer’s 
house. 


Tom, the 
Piper's 
Son 


[ *oi ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


When he came near he heard the farmer again 
sawing wood in the woodshed, and so he went softly 
up to the pig-sty and reached over and grabbed the 
little pig by the ears. The pig squealed, of course, 
but the farmer was making so much noise himself that 
he did not hear it, and in a minute Tom had the pig 
tucked under his arm and was running back home 
with it. 

The piper was very glad to see the pig, and said to 
Tom, 

“You are a good son, and the pig is very nice and 
fat. We shall have a dinner fit for a king.” 

It was not long before the piper had the pig killed 
and cut into pieces and boiling in the pot. Only the 
tail was left out, for Tom wanted to make a whistle 
of it, and as there was plenty to eat besides the tail his 
father let him have it. 

The piper and his son had a fine dinner that day, 
and so great was their hunger that the little pig was 
all eaten up at one meal! 

Then Barney lay down to sleep, and Tom sat on 
a bench outside the door and began to make a whistle 
out of the pig’s tail with his pocket-knife. 

Now Farmer Bowser, when he had finished sawing 
the wood, found it was time to feed the pig, so he 
took a pail of meal and went to the pigsty. But when 
he came to the sty there was no pig to be seen, and 
he searched all round the place for a good hour with- 
out finding it. 


[ 202 ] 


“Piggy, piggy, piggy! ” he called, but no piggy Tom, the 
came, and then he knew his pig had been stolen. He Pfy er ’ s 
was very angry, indeed, for the pig was a great pet, 
and he had wanted to keep it till it grew very big. 

So he put on his coat and buckled a strap around 
his waist, and went down to the village to see if he 
could find out who had stolen his pig. 

Up and down the street he went, and in and 
out the lanes, but no traces of the pig could he 
find anywhere. And that was no great wonder, for 
the pig was eaten by that time and its bones picked 
clean. 

Finally the farmer came to the end of the street 
where the piper lived in his little hut, and there he 
saw Tom sitting on a bench and blowing on a whistle 
made from a pig’s tail. 

“Where did you get that tail?” asked the farmer. 

“ I found it,” said naughty Tom, beginning to be 
frightened. 

“ Let me see it,” demanded the farmer; and when 
he had looked at it carefully he cried out, 

« This tail belonged to my little pig, for I know 
very well the curl at the end of it! Tell me, you 
rascal, where is the pig? ” 

Then Tom fell in a tremble, for he knew his 
wickedness was discovered. 

“The pig is eat, your honor,” he answered. 

The farmer said never a word, but his face grew 
black with anger, and, unbuckling the strap that was 
[203] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


about his waist, he waved it around his head, and 
whack! came the strap over Tom’s back. 

“Ow, ow!” cried the boy, and started to run 
down the street. 

Whack! whack! fell the strap over his shoulders, 
for the farmer followed at his heels half-way down the 
street, nor did he spare the strap until he had given 
Tom a good beating. And Tom was so scared that 
he never stopped running until he came to the end 
of the village, and he bawled lustily the whole way 
and cried out at every step as if the farmer was still at 
his back. 

It was dark before he came back to his home, and 
his father was still asleep; so Tom crept into the hut 
and went to bed. But he had received a good lesson, 
and never after that could the old piper induce him 
to steal. 

When Tom showed by his actions his intention of 
being honest he soon got a job of work to do, and 
before long he was able to earn a living more easily, 
and a great deal more honestly, than when he stole 
the pig to get a dinner and suffered a severe beating 
as a punishment. 

Tom, Tom, the piper’s son 
Now with stealing pigs was done, 

He’d work all day instead of play, 

And dined on tart and currant bun. 


[204] 










Humpty Dumpty 

Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, 

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. 

All the King’s horses 
And all the King’s men 
Cannot put Humpty together again. 

A T the very top of the hay-mow in the barn, the Humpty 
Speckled Hen had made her nest, and each Dumpty 
day for twelve days she had laid in it a pretty 
white egg. The Speckled Hen had made her nest in 
this out-of-the-way place so that no one would come 
to disturb her, as it was her intention to sit upon the 
eggs until they were hatched into chickens. 

Each day, as she laid her eggs, she would cackle to 
herself, saying, “This will in time be a beautiful chick, 
with soft, fluffy down all over its body and bright little 
eyes that will look at the world in amazement. It will 
be one of my children, and I shall love it dearly.” 

She named each egg, as she laid it, by the name 
she should call it when a chick, the first one being 
“Cluckety-Cluck,” and the next “Cadaw-Cut,” and 
so on; and when she came to the twelfth egg she 
called it “ Humpty Dumpty.” 

This twelfth egg was remarkably big and white 
and of a very pretty shape, and as the nest was now so 
[207] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


full she laid it quite near the edge. And then the 
Speckled Hen, after looking proudly at her work, 
went off to the barn-yard, clucking joyfully, in search 
of something to eat. 

When she had gone, Cluckety-Cluck, who was in 
the middle of the nest and the oldest egg of all, called 
out, angrily, 

“ It’s getting crowded in this nest; move up there, 
some of you fellows!” And then he gave Cadaw- 
Cut, who was above him, a kick. 

“ I can’t move unless the others do ; they ’re 
crowding me down!” said Cadaw-Cut; and he kicked 
the egg next above him. And so they continued 
kicking one another and rolling around in the nest 
until one kicked Humpty Dumpty, and as he lay on 
the edge of the nest he was kicked out and rolled 
down the hay-mow until he came to a stop near the 
very bottom. 

Humpty did not like this very well, but he was a 
bright egg for one so young, and after he had recovered 
from his shaking up he began to look about to see 
where he was. The barn door was open, and he 
caught a glimpse of trees and hedges, and green grass 
with a silvery brook running through it. And he saw 
the waving grain and the tasselled maize and the sun- 
shine flooding it all. 

The scene was very enticing to the young egg, and 
Humpty at once resolved to see something of this 
great world before going back to the nest. 

[208] 


He began to make his way carefully through the Humpty 
hay, and was getting along fairly well when he heard a Dumpty 
voice say, 

“Where are you going?” 

Humpty looked around and found he was beside a 
pretty little nest in which was one brown egg. 

“ Did you speak?” he asked. 

“Yes,” replied the brown egg; “I asked where 
you were going.” 

“Who are you?” enquired Humpty; “do you 
belong in our nest? ” 

“Oh, no!” answered the brown egg; “my name 
is Coutchie-Coulou, and the Black Bantam laid me 
about an hour ago.” 

“Oh,” said Humpty, proudly; “I belong to the 
Speckled Hen, myself.” 

“Do you, indeed!” returned Coutchie-Coulou. 

“ I saw her go by a little while ago, and she ’s much 
bigger than the Black Bantam.” 

“Yes, and I ’m much bigger than you,” replied 
Humpty. “But I ’m going out to see the world, and 
if you like to go with me I ’ll take good care of you.” 

“ Is n’t it dangerous for eggs to go about all by 
themselves?” asked Coutchie, timidly. 

“Perhaps so,” answered Humpty; “but it’s dan- 
gerous in the nest, too; my brothers might have 
smashed me with their kicking. However, if we are 
careful we can’t come to much harm; so come along, 
little one, and I ’ll look after you.” 

[ 2 °9 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


Coutchie-Coulou gave him her hand while he 
helped her out of the nest, and together they crept 
over the hay until they came to the barn floor. They 
made for the door at once, holding each other tightly 
by the hand, and soon came to the threshold, which 
appeared very high to them. 

“We must jump,” said Humpty. 

“I’m afraid!” cried Coutchie-Coulou. “And I 
declare ! there ’s my mother’s voice clucking, and 
she ’s coming this way.” 

“Then hurry!” said Humpty. “And do not trem- 
ble so or you will get yourself all mixed up; it 
does n’t improve eggs to shake them. We will jump, 
but take care not to bump against me or you may 
break my shell. Now, — one, — two, — three!” 

They held each other’s hand and jumped, alight- 
ing safely in the roadway. Then, fearing their moth- 
ers would see them, Humpty ran as fast as he could 
go until he and Coutchie were concealed beneath a 
rose-bush in the garden. 

“ I ’m afraid we ’re bad eggs,” gasped Coutchie, 
who was somewhat out of breath. 

“Oh, not at all,” replied Humpty; “we were laid 
only this morning, so we are quite fresh. But now, 
since we are in the world, we must start out in search 
of adventure. Here is a roadway beside us which will 
lead us somewhere or other; so come along, Coutchie- 
Coulou, and do not be afraid.” 

The brown egg meekly gave him her hand, and 

[ 210 ] 


together they trotted along the roadway until they Humpty 
came to a high stone wall, which had sharp spikes Dumpty 
upon its top. It seemed to extend for a great dis- 
tance, and the eggs stopped and looked at it curiously. 

“ I ’d like to see what is behind that wall,” said 
Humpty, “but I don’t think we shall be able to 
climb over it.” 

“No, indeed,” answered the brown egg, “but just 
before us I see a little hole in the wall, near the 
ground; perhaps we can crawl through that.” 

They ran to the hole and found it was just large 
enough to admit them. So they squeezed through 
very carefully, in order not to break themselves, and 
soon came to the other side. 

They were now in a most beautiful garden, with 
trees and bright-hued flowers in abundance and pretty 
fountains that shot their merry sprays far into the air. 

In the center of the garden was a great palace, with 
bright golden turrets and domes, and many windows 
that glistened in the sunshine like the sparkle of 
diamonds. 

Richly dressed courtiers and charming ladies strolled 
through the walks, and before the palace door were a 
dozen prancing horses, gaily caparisoned, awaiting 
their riders. 

It was a scene brilliant enough to fascinate anyone, 
and the two eggs stood spellbound while their eyes 
feasted upon the unusual sight. 

“See!” whispered Coutchie-Coulou, “there are 
[ 211 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


some birds swimming in the water yonder. Let us 
go and look at them, for we also may be birds some 
day.” 

“True,” answered Humpty, “but we are just as 
likely to be omelets or angel’s-food. Still, we will 
have a look at the birds.” 

So they started to cross the drive on their way to 
the pond, never noticing that the King and his cour- 
tiers had issued from the palace and were now coming 
down the drive riding upon their prancing steeds. 
Just as the eggs were in the middle of the drive the 
horses dashed by, and Humpty, greatly alarmed, ran 
as fast as he could for the grass. 

Then he stopped and looked around, and behold \ 
there was poor Coutchie-Coulou crushed into a shape- 
less mass by the hoof of one of the horses, and her 
golden heart was spreading itself slowly over the white 
gravel of the driveway! 

Humpty sat down upon the grass and wept griev- 
ously, for the death of his companion was a great 
blow to him. And while he sobbed, a voice said to 
him, 

“What is the matter, little egg?” 

Humpty looked up, and saw a beautiful girl bend- 
ing over him. 

“ One of the horses has stepped upon Coutchie- 
Coulou,” he said; “and now she is dead, and I have 
no friend in all the world.” 

The girl laughed. 


[212] 




SE32E 








\ 




“ Do not grieve,” she said, “for eggs are but short- 
lived creatures at best, and Coutchie-Coulou has at 
least died an honorable death and saved herself from 
being fried in a pan or boiled in her own shell. So 
cheer up, little egg, and I will be your friend — at 
least so long as you remain fresh. A stale egg I 
never could abide.” 

“ I was laid only this morning,” said Humpty, dry- 
ing his tears, “so you need have no fear. But do not 
call me ‘little egg,’ for I am quite large, as eggs go, 
and I have a name of my own.” 

“What is your name?” asked the Princess. 

“It is Humpty Dumpty,” he answered, proudly. 
“And now, if you will really be my friend, pray show 
me about the grounds, and through the palace; and 
take care I am not crushed.” 

So the Princess took Humpty in her arms and 
walked with him all through the grounds, letting him 
see the fountains and the golden fish that swam in 
their waters, the beds of lilies and roses, and the pools 
where the swans floated. Then she took him into 
the palace, and showed him all the gorgeous rooms, 
including the King’s own bedchamber and the room 
where stood the great ivory throne. 

Humpty sighed with pleasure. 

“After this,” he said, “I am content to accept any 
fate that may befall me, for surely no egg before me 
ever saw so many beautiful sights.” 

“That is true,” answered the Princess; “but now 
[213] 


Humpty 

Dumpty 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


I have one more sight to show you which will be 
grander than all the others; for the King will be rid- 
ing home shortly with all his horses and men at his 
back, and I will take you to the gates and let you see 
them pass by^” 

“Thank you,” said Humpty. 

So she carried him to the gates, and while they 
awaited the coming of the King the egg said, 

“ Put me upon the wall, Princess, for then I shall 
be able to see much better than in your arms.” 

“That is a good idea,” she answered; “but you 
must be careful not to fall.” 

Then she sat the egg gently upon the top of the 
stone wall, where there was a little hollow; and 
Humpty was delighted, for from his elevated perch 
he could see much better than the Princess herself. 

“Here they come!” he cried; and, sure enough, 
the King came riding along the road with many 
courtiers and soldiers and vassals following in his wake, 
all mounted upon the finest horses the kingdom could 
afford. 

As they came to the gate and entered at a brisk 
trot, Humpty, forgetting his dangerous position, leaned 
eagerly over to look at them. The next instant the 
Princess heard a sharp crash at her side, and, looking 
downward, perceived poor Humpty Dumpty, who lay 
crushed and mangled among the sharp stones where 
he had fallen! 

The Princess sighed, for she had taken quite a 
[214] 


fancy to the egg; but she knew it was impossible to Humpty 
gather it up again or mend the matter in any way, humpty 
and therefore she returned thoughtfully to the palace. 

Now it happened that upon this evening several 
young men of the kingdom, who were all of high rank, 
had determined to ask the King for the hand of the 
Princess; so they assembled in the throne room and 
demanded that the King choose which of them was 
most worthy to marry his daughter. 

The King was in a quandary, for all the suitors 
were wealthy and powerful, and he feared that all but 
the one chosen would become his enemies. There- 
fore he thought long upon the matter, and at last said, 

“ Where all are worthy it is difficult to decide 
which most deserves the hand of the Princess. There- 
fore I propose to test your wit. The one who shall 
ask me a riddle I cannot guess, can marry my 
daughter.” 

At this the young men looked thoughtful, and 
began to devise riddles that his Majesty should be 
unable to guess. But the King was a shrewd mon- 
arch, and each one of the riddles presented to him he 
guessed with ease. 

Now there was one amongst the suitors whom the 
Princess herself favored, as was but natural. He was 
a slender, fair-haired youth, with dreamy blue eyes 
and a rosy complexion, and although he loved the 
Princess dearly he despaired of finding a riddle that 
the King could not guess. 

[215] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


But while he stood leaning against the wall the 
Princess approached him and whispered in his ear a 
riddle she had just thought of. Instantly his face 
brightened, and when the King called, “Now, Master 
Gracington, it is your turn,” he advanced boldly to 
the throne. 

“Speak your riddle, sir,” said the King, gaily; for 
he thought this youth would also fail, and that he 
might therefore keep the Princess by his side for a 
time longer. 

But Master Gracington, with downcast eyes, knelt 
before the throne and spoke in this wise: 

“This is my riddle, oh, King: 

“Humpty Dumpty sat on a wall, 

Humpty Dumpty had a great fall. 

All the King’s horses 
And all the King’s men 
Cannot put Humpty together again!” 

“ Read me that, sire, an’ you will ! ” 

The King thought earnestly for a long time, and 
he slapped his head and rubbed his ears and walked 
the floor in great strides; but guess the riddle he 
could not. 

“You are a humbug, sir!” he cried out at last; 
“ there is no answer to such a riddle.” 

“You are wrong, sire,” answered the young man; 
“ Humpty Dumpty was an egg.” 

“Why did I not think of that before!” exclaimed 
[216] 


the King; but he gave the Princess to the young man 
to be his bride, and they lived happily together. 

And thus did Humpty Dumpty, even in his death, 
repay the kindness of the fair girl who had shown him 
such sights as an egg seldom sees. 


Humpty 

Dumpty 


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The Woman Who Lived in a Shoe 


There was an old woman 
Who lived in a shoe, 

She had so many children 

She didn’t know what to do; 
She gave them some broth 
Without any bread, 

And whipped them all soundly 
And sent them to bed. 


A LONG time ago there lived a woman who had 
four daughters, and these in time grew up and 
married and went to live in different parts of 
the country. And the woman, after that, lived all 
alone, and said to herself, “ I have done my duty to 
the world, and now shall rest quietly for the balance 
of my life. When one has raised a family of four 
children and has married them all 
happily, she is surely entitled to pass 


day: 


s in 


peace 


and 






her remaining 
comfort.” 

She lived in a peculiar little house, 
that looked something like this pic- 
ture. It was not like most of the — 

houses you see, but the old woman 

had it built herself, and liked it, and so it did not 

matter to her how odd it was. It stood upon the top 

[ 221 ] 


The 

Woman 
Who 
Lived in 
a Shoe 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


of a little hill, and there was a garden at the back and 
a pretty green lawn in front, with white gravel paths 
and many beds of bright colored flowers. 

The old woman was very happy and contented 
there until one day she received a letter saying that her 
daughter Hannah was dead and had sent her family of 
five children to their grandmother to be taken care of. 

This misfortune ruined all the old woman’s dreams 
of quiet; but the next day the children arrived — three 
boys and two girls, — and she made the best of it and 
gave them the beds her own daughters had once occu- 
pied, and her own cot as well; and she made a bed 
for herself on the parlor sofa. 

The youngsters were like all other children, and 
got into mischief once in awhile; but the old woman 
had much experience with children and managed to 
keep them in order very well, while they quickly 
learned to obey her, and generally did as they were 
bid. 

But scarcely had she succedeed in getting them 
settled in their new home when Margaret, another of 
her daughters, died, and sent four more children to 
her mother to be taken care of. 

The old woman scarcely knew where to keep this 
new flock that had come to her fold, for the house 
was already full; but she thought the matter over and 
finally decided she must build an addition to her 
house. 

So she hired a carpenter and built what is called a 
[ 222 ] 


“lean-to” at the right of her cottage, making it just 
big enough to accommodate the four new members of 
her family. When it was completed 
her house looked very much as it 
does in this picture. 

She put four little cots in her 
new part of the house, and then she 
sighed contentedly, and said, “Now 
all the babies are taken care of and 
will be comfortable until they grow up.” Of course 
it was much more difficult to manage nine small 
children than five; and they often led each other into 
mischief, so that the flower beds began to be trampled 
upon and the green grass to be worn under the con- 
stant tread of little feet, and the furniture to show a 
good many scratches and bruises. 

But the old woman continued to look after them, 
as well as she was able, until Sarah, her third daughter, 
also died, and three mor j children were sent to their 
grandmother to be brought up. 

The old woman was nearly 
distracted when she heard of this 
new addition to her family, but 
she did not give way to despair. 

She sent for the carpenter again, 
and had him build another addi- 
tion to her house, as the picture 
shows. Then she put three new cots in the new 
part for the babies to sleep in, and when they arrived 
[ 223 ] 






The 

Woman 
Who 
Lived in 
a Shoe 



Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


they were just as cozy and comfortable as peas in 
a pod. 

The grandmother was a lively old woman for one 
of her years, but she found her time now fully occu- 
pied in cooking the meals for her twelve small grand- 
children, and mending their clothes, and washing their 
faces, and undressing them at night and dressing them 
in the morning. There was just a dozen of the 
babies now, and when you consider they were about 
the same age you will realize what a large family the 
old woman had, and how fully her time was occupied 
in caring for them all. 

And now, to make the matter worse, her fourth 
daughter, who had been named Abigail, suddenly 
took sick and died, and she also had four small chil- 
dren that must be cared for in some way. 

The old woman, having taken the other twelve, 
could not well refuse to adopt these little orphans also. 

“ I may as well have sixteen as a dozen,” she said, 
with a sigh ; “ they will drive 
me crazy some day, anyhow, 
so a few more will not matter 
at all! ” 

Once more she sent for 
the carpenter, and bade him 
build a third addition to the 
house; and when it was com- 
pleted she added four more cots to the dozen that 
were already in use. The house presented a very queer 

[224] 



appearance now, but she did not mind that so long as 
the babies were comfortable. “ I shall not have to 
build again,” she said; “ and that is one satisfaction. I 
have now no more daughters to die and leave me their 
children, and therefore I must make up my mind to 
do the best I can with the sixteen that have already 
been inflicted upon me in my old age.” 

It was not long before all the grass about the 
house was trodden down, and the white gravel of the 
walks all thrown at the birds, and the flower beds 
trampled into shapeless masses by thirty-two little feet 
that ran about from morn till night. But the old 
woman did not complain at this; her time was too 
much taken up with the babies for her to miss the 
grass and the flowers. 

It cost so much money to clothe them that she 
decided to dress them all alike, so that they looked 
like the children of a regular orphan asylum. And it 
cost so much to feed them that she was obliged to 
give them the plainest food; so there was bread-and- 
milk for breakfast and milk-and-bread for dinner and 
bread-and-broth for supper. But it was a good and 
wholesome diet, and the children thrived and grew fat 
upon it. 

One day a stranger came along the road, and when 
he saw the old woman’s house he began to laugh. 

“What are you laughing at, sir?” asked the grand- 
mother, who was sitting upon her door-steps engaged 
in mending sixteen pairs of stockings. 

[225] 


The 

Woman 
Who 
Lived in 
a Shoe 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“At your house,” the stranger replied; “it looks 
for all the world like a big shoe ! ” 

“A shoe!” she said, in surprise. 

“Why, yes. The chimneys are shoe-straps, and 
the steps are the heel, and all those additions make 
the foot of the shoe.” 

“Never mind,” said the woman; “it may be a 
shoe, but it is full of babies, and that makes it different 
from most other shoes.” 

But the stranger went on to the village and told 
all he met that he had seen an old woman who lived 
in a shoe; and soon people came from all parts of the 
country to look at the queer house, and they usually 
went away laughing. 

The old woman did not mind this at all; she was 
too busy to be angry. Some of the children were 
always getting bumped heads or bruised shins, or fall- 
ing down and hurting themselves, and these had to be 
comforted. And some were naughty and had to be 
whipped; and some were dirty and had to be washed; 
and some were good and had to be kissed. It was 
“ Gran’ma, do this! ” and “Gran’ma, do that!” from 
morning to night, so that the poor grandmother was 
nearly distracted. The only peace she ever got was 
when they were all safely tucked in their little cots 
and were sound asleep; for then, at least, she was free 
from worry and had a chance to gather her scattered 
wits. 

“ There are so many children,” she said one day to 
[226] 


the baker-man, “ that I often really do n’t know what 
to do ! ” 

“If they were mine, ma’am,” he replied, “ I ’d send 
them to the poor-house, or else they ’d send me to the 
mad-house.” 

Some of the children heard him say this, and they 
resolved to play him a trick in return for his ill- 
natured speech. 

The baker-man came every day to the shoe-house, 
and brought two great baskets of bread in his arms for 
the children to eat with their milk and their broth. 

So one day, when the old woman had gone to the 
town to buy shoes, the children all painted their faces, 
to look as Indians do when they are on the war-path; 
and they caught the roosters and the turkey-cock and 
pulled feathers from their tails to stick in their hair. 
And then the boys made wooden tomahawks for the 
girls and bows-and-arrows for their own use, and then 
all sixteen went out and hid in the bushes near the 
top of the hill. 

By and by the baker-man came slowly up the 
path with a basket of bread on either arm; and just 
as he reached the bushes there sounded in his ears a 
most unearthly war-whoop. Then a flight of arrows 
came from the bushes, and although they were blunt 
and could do him no harm, they rattled all over his 
body; and one hit his nose, and another his chin, 
while several stuck fast in the loaves of bread. 

Altogether, the baker-man was terribly frightened; 

[227] 


The 

Woman 
Who 
Lived in 
a Shoe 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


and when all the sixteen small Indians rushed from the 
bushes and flourished their tomahawks, he took to his 
heels and ran down the hill as fast as he could go ! 

When the grandmother returned she asked, 

“Where is the bread for your supper? ” 

The children looked at one another in surprise, 
for they had forgotten all about the bread. And then 
one of them confessed, and told her the whole story of 
how they had frightened the baker-man for saying he 
would send them to the poor-house. 

“You are sixteen very naughty children!” ex- 
claimed the old woman; “and for punishment you 
must eat your broth without any bread, and after- 
wards each one shall have a sound whipping and be 
sent to bed.” 

Then all the children began to cry at once, and 
there was such an uproar that their grandmother had 
to put cotton in her ears that she might not lose her 
hearing. 

But she kept her promise, and made them eat their 
broth without any bread; for, indeed, there was no 
bread to give them. 

Then she stood them in a row and undressed 
them, and as she put the night-dress on each one she 
gave it a sound whipping and sent it to bed. 

They cried some, of course, but they knew very 
well they deserved the punishment, and it was not 
long before all of them were sound asleep. 

They took care not to play any more tricks on 
[228] 


the baker-man, and as they grew older they were 
naturally much better behaved. 

Before many years the boys were old enough to 
work for the neighboring farmers, and that made the 
woman’s family a good deal smaller. And then the 
girls grew up and married, and found homes of their 
own, so that all the children were in time well pro- 
vided for. 

But not one of them forgot the kind grandmother 
who had taken such good care of them, and often 
they tell their children of the days when they lived 
with the old woman in a shoe and frightened the 
baker-man almost into fits with their wooden toma- 
hawks. 


The 

Woman . 
Who 
Lived in 
a Shoe 


[229] 






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Little Miss Muffet 


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Little Miss MufFet 


Little Miss MufFet 
Sat on a tufFet, 

Eating of curds and whey. 

There came a great spider 
And sat down beside her 
And frightened Miss MufFet away. 

L ITTLE MISS MUFFET’S father was a big 
banker in a big city, and he had so much 
money that the house he lived in was almost 
as beautiful as a king’s palace. It was built of granite 
and marble, and richly furnished with every luxury 
that money can buy. There was an army of servants 
about the house, and many of them had no other 
duties than to wait upon Miss MufFet, for the little 
girl was an only child and therefore a personage 
of great importance. She had a maid to dress her 
hair and a maid to bathe her, a maid to serve her at 
table and a maid to tie her shoestrings, and several 
maids beside. And then there was Nurse Holloweg 
to look after all the maids and see they did their tasks 
properly. 

The child’s father spent his days at his office and 
his evenings at his club; her mother was a leader in 
society, and therefore fully engaged from morning till 
[233] 


Little 

Miss 

Muffet 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


night and from night till morn; so that Little Miss 
Muffet seldom saw her parents and scarce knew them 
when she did see them. 

I have never known by what name she was chris- 
tened. Perhaps she did not know herself, for every- 
one had called her “ Miss Mulfet ” since she could 
remember. The servants spoke of her respectfully as 
Miss Muffet. Mrs. Muffet would say, at times, “ By 
the way, Nurse, how is Miss Muffet getting along?” 
And Mr. Muffet, when he met his little daughter by 
chance on the walk or in the hallway, would stop 
and look at her gravely and say, “ So this is Miss 
Muffet. Well, how are you feeliog, little one?” 
And then, without heeding her answer, he would walk 
away. 

Perhaps you think that Miss Muffet, surrounded 
by every luxury and with a dozen servants to wait 
upon her, was happy and contented; but such was 
not the case. She wanted to run and romp, but they 
told her it was unladylike; she wished to play with 
other children, but none were rich enough to be 
proper associates for her; she longed to dig in the dirt 
in the garden, but Nurse Holloweg was shocked at 
the very thought. So Miss Muffet became sullen and 
irritable, and scolded everyone about her, and lived a 
very unhappy life. And her food was too rich and 
gave her dyspepsia, so that she grew thin and pale and 
did not sleep well at night. 

One afternoon her mother, who happened to be at 
l>34] 


home for an hour, suddenly thought of her little Little 
daughter; so she rang the bell and asked for Nurse ^ tss 
Holloweg. Mu # et 

“How is Miss Muffet, Nurse?” enquired the lady. 

“Very badly, ma’am,” was the reply. 

“Badly! What do you mean? Is she ill?” 

“ She ’s far from well, ma’am,” answered the 
Nurse, “and seems to be getting worse every day.” 

“Well,” replied the lady; “you must have the 
doctor to see her; and do n’t forget to let me know 
what he says. That is all, Nurse.” 

She turned to her novel again, and the Nurse 
walked away and sent a servant for the doctor. That 
great man, when he came, shook his head solemnly 
and said, 

“She must have a change. Take her away into 
the country as soon as possible.” 

“ And very good advice it was, too,” remarked the 
Nurse to one of the maids; “for I feel as if I needed 
a change myself.” 

When she reported the matter to Mrs. Muffet the 
mother answered, 

“Very well; I will see Mr. Muffet and have him 
write out a cheque.” 

And so it was that a week later Little Miss Muffet 
went to the country, or rather to a small town where 
there was a summer hotel that had been highly recom- 
mended to Nurse Holloweg; and with her went the 
string of maids and a wagon-load of boxes and trunks. 

I>35] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


The morning after their arrival the little girl asked 
to go out upon the lawn. 

“Well,” replied Nurse Holloweg, “Sarah can take 
you out for half an hour. But remember you are 
not to run and get heated, for that will ruin your 
complexion; and you must not speak to any of the 
common children you meet, for your mother would 
object; and you must not get your shoes dusty nor 
your dress soiled, nor disobey Sarah in any way.” 

Little Miss Muffet went out in a very angry and 
sulky mood. 

“What’s the use of being in the country,” she 
thought, “if I must act just as I did in the city? I 
hate Nurse Holloweg, and Sarah, and all the rest of 
them! and if I dared I’d just — just run away.” 

Indeed, a few minutes later, when Sarah had fallen 
asleep upon a bench under a big shade tree, Miss 
Muffet decided she would really run away for once in 
her life, and see how it seemed. 

There was a pretty lane near by, running between 
shady trees far out into the country, and, stealing 
softly away from Sarah’s side, the little girl ran as fast 
as she could go, and never stopped until she was all 
out of breath. 

While she rested and wondered what she could do 
next, a farmer came along, driving an empty cart. 

“I’ll catch on behind,” said Miss Muffet, glee- 
fully, “just as I ’ve seen the boys do in the city. 
Won’t it be fun ! ” 


[236] 


So she ran and caught on the end of the cart, and Little 
actually climbed into it, falling all in a heap upon Miss 
the straw that lay upon the bottom. But it did n’t u ^ et 
hurt her at all, and the next minute the farmer 
whipped up his horses, and they went trotting along 
the lane, carrying Miss Muffet farther and farther 
away from hated Nurse Holloweg and the dreadful 
maids. 

She looked around upon the green fields and the 
waving grain, and drew in deep breaths of the fresh 
country air, and was happy for almost the first time in 
her little life. By and by she lay back upon the 
straw and fell asleep; and the farmer, who did not 
know she was in his cart, drove on for many miles, 
until at last he stopped at a small wooden farm-house, 
and jumped to the ground. 

A woman came to the door to greet him, and he 
said to her, 

“Well, mother, we ’re home again, you see.” 

“So I see,” she answered; “but did you bring my 
groceries? ” 

“Yes,” he replied, as he began to unharness the 
horses; “they are in the cart.” 

So she came to the cart and looked within, and 
saw Miss Muffet, who was still asleep. 

“Where did you get the little girl?” asked the 
farmer’s wife, in surprise. 

“What little girl? ” asked he. 

“ The one in the cart.” 

[ 237 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


He came to the cart and looked in, and was as 
surprised as his wife. 

“ She must have climbed into the cart when I left 
the town,” he said; “but waken her, wife, and we 
will hear what she has to say.” 

So the farmer’s wife shook the girl by the arm, 
and Miss MufFet sat up in the cart and rubbed her 
eyes and wondered where she was. 

“How came you in my cart?” asked the farmer. 

“ I caught on behind, and climbed in,” answered 
the girl. 

“What is your name, and where do you live?” 
enquired the farmer’s wife. 

“ My name is Miss MufFet, and I live in a big city, 
— but where, I do not know.” 

And that was all she could tell them, so the 
woman said at last, 

“ We must keep her till some one comes to claim 
her, and she can earn her living by helping me make 
the cheeses.” 

“ That will be nice,” said Miss MufFet, with a 
laugh, “for Nurse Holloweg never lets me do any- 
thing, and I should like to help somebody do some- 
thing.” 

So they led her into the house, where the farmer’s 
wife wondered at the fine texture of her dress 
and admired the golden chain that hung around her 
neck. 

“Some one will surely come for her,” the woman 
[238] 


said to her husband, “for she is richly dressed and Little 
must belong to a family of some importance.” Mus 

Nevertheless, when they had eaten dinner, for Mu ff et 
which Little Miss Muffet had a wonderful appetite, 
the woman took her into the dairy and told her how 
she could assist her in curdling the milk and preparing 
it for the cheese-press. 

“ Why, it ’s really fun to work,” said the girl, at 
first, “and I should like to live here always. I do 
hope Nurse Holloweg will not find me.” 

After a time, however, she grew weary, and wanted 
to rest; but the woman had not yet finished her 
cheese-making, so she bade the girl keep at her tasks. 

“ It ’s time enough to rest when the work is done,” 
she said, “and if you stay with me you must earn 
your board. No one is allowed to idle in this 
house.” 

So Little Miss Muffet, though she felt like crying 
and was very tired, kept at her work until at length 
all was finished., and the last cheese was in the press. 

“Now,” said the farmer’s wife, “since you have 
worked so well I shall give you a dish of curds and 
whey for your supper, and you may go out into the 
orchard and eat it under the shade of the trees.” 

Little Miss Muffet had never eaten curds and 
whey before, and did not know how they tasted; but 
she was very hungry, so she took the dish and went 
into the orchard. 

She first looked around for a place to sit down, 

[239] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


and finally discovered a little grassy mound, which is 
called a tuffet in the country, and seated herself upon 
it. Then she tasted the curds and whey and found 
them very good. 

But while she was eating she chanced to look 
down at her feet, and there was a great black spider 
coming straight towards her. The girl had never seen 
such an enormous and hideous-looking spider before, 
and she was so frightened that she gave a scream and 
tipped backward off the tuffet, spilling the curds and 
whey all over her dress as she did so. This frightened 
her more than ever, and as soon as she could get 
upon her feet she scampered away to the farm-house 
as fast as she could go, crying bitterly as she ran. 

The farmer’s wife tried to comfort her, and Miss 
Muffet, between her sobs, said she had seen “ the 
awfulest, biggest, blackest spider in all the world! ” 

This made the woman laugh, for she was not 
afraid of spiders. 

Soon after they heard a sound of wheels upon the 
road and a handsome carriage came dashing up to 
the gate. 

“ Has anyone seen a little girl who has run away?” 
asked Nurse Holloweg, leaning out of the carriage. 

“Oh, yes,” answered Little Miss Muffet; “here I 
am, Nurse.” And she ran out and jumped into the 
carriage, for she was very glad to get back again to 
those who would care for her and not ask her to work 
making cheeses. 


[240] 


When they were driving back to the town the 
Nurse said, 

“You must promise me, Miss Muffet, never to run 
away again. You have frightened me nearly into 
hysterics, and had you been lost your mother would 
have been quite disappointed.” 

The little girl was silent for a time; then she 
answered, 

“ I will promise not to run away if you will let 
me play as other children do. But if you do not 
allow me to run and romp and dig in the ground, I 
shall keep running away, no matter how many horrid 
spidbrs come to frighten me! ” 

And Nurse Holloweg, who had really been much 
alarmed at so nearly losing her precious charge, 
thought it wise to agree to Miss Muffet’s terms. 

She kept her word, too, and when Little Miss 
Muffet went back to her home in the city her cheeks 
were as red as roses and her eyes sparkled with health. 
And she grew, in time, to be a beautiful young lady, 
and as healthy and robust as she was beautiful. See- 
ing which, the doctor put an extra large fee in his bill 
for advising that the little girl be taken to the coun- 
try; and Mr. Muffet paid it without a word of protest. 

Even after Miss Muffet grew up and was married 
she never forgot the day that she ran away, nor the 
curds and whey she ate for her supper, nor the great 
spider that frightened her away from the tuffet. 


Little 

Miss 

Muffet 


[hi ] 















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Three Wise Men of 
Gotham 


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Three Wise Men of Gotham 

Three Wise Men of Gotham 
Went to sea in a bowl. 

If the bowl had been stronger 
My tale had been longer. 

T HERE lived in the great city of Gotham, over 
against the north gate, a man who possessed a 
very wise aspect, but very little else. He was 
tall and lean, and had a fine large head, bald and 
smooth upon the top, with a circle of white hair 
behind the ears. His beard was pure white, and 
reached to his waist; his eyes were small, dark, and so 
piercing that they seemed to read your every thought. 
His eyebrows were very heavy, and as white as his 
beard. He dressed in a long black mantle with a 
girdle corded about the middle, and he walked slowly 
and majestically, and talked no more than he was 
obliged to. 

When this man passed down the street with his 
stately tread the people all removed their hats and 
bowed to him with great reverence, saying within 
themselves, 

“He is very wise, this great man; he is a second 
Socrates.” 


Three 
Wise 
Men of 
Gotham 


[> 45 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


And soon this was the only name he was called 
by, and every one in Gotham knew him as “Socrates.” 

To be sure this man was not really wise. Had 
they realized the truth, not one he met but knew 
more than Socrates; but his venerable appearance 
certainly betokened great wisdom, and no one ap- 
peared to remember that things are seldom what they 
seem. 

Socrates would strut about with bowed head and 
arms clasped behind him, and think: 

“ My ! how wise these people take me to be. 
Every one admires my beautiful beard. When I look 
into their faces they drop their eyes. I am, in truth, 
a wonderful man, and if I say nothing they will be- 
lieve I am full of wisdom. Ah, here comes the 
schoolmaster; I shall frown heavily and refuse to 
notice him, for then he also will be deceived and 
think I am pondering upon matters of great import.” 

Really, the one wise thing about this Socrates was 
his ability to keep quiet. For, saying no word, it was 
impossible he should betray his ignorance. 

Singularly enough, over by the south gate of 
Gotham there dwelt another wise man, of much the 
same appearance as Socrates. His white beard was a 
trifle longer and he had lost his left eye, which was 
covered by a black patch; but in all other ways his 
person betokened as much wisdom as that of the 
other. 

He did not walk about, being lazy and preferring 

[ 246 ] 


his ease; but he lived in a little cottage with one 
room, where the people came to consult him in regard 
to all their troubles. 

They had named him Sophocles, and when any- 
thing went wrong they would say, 

“ Let us go and consult Sophocles, for he is very 
wise and will tell us what to do.” 

Thus one man, who had sued his neighbor in the 
courts, became worried over the outcome of the mat- 
ter and came to consult the wise man. 

“Tell me, O Sophocles!” he said, as he dropped 
a piece of money upon a plate, “shall I win my law- 
suit or not?” 

Sophocles appeared to ponder for a moment, and 
then he looked at his questioner with his one eye and 
replied, 

“ If it is not decided against you, you will cer- 
tainly win your suit.” 

And the man was content, and went away feeling 
that his money had been well invested. 

At another time the mother of a pair of baby 
twins came to him in great trouble. 

“O most wise Sophocles!” she said, “I am in 
despair! For my little twin girls are just alike, and I 
have lost the ribbon that I placed on one that I might 
be able to tell them apart. Therefore I cannot deter- 
mine which is Amelia and which is Ophelia, and as 
the priest has christened them by their proper names 
it would be a sin to call them wrongly.” 

C 2 47 ] 


Three 
Wise 
Men of 
Gotham 


Mother 
Goose 
m Prose 


“ Cannot the priest tell? ” asked the wise man. 

“No one can tell,” answered the woman; “neither 
the priest nor their father nor myself, for they are just 
alike. And they are yet too young to remember their 
own names. Therefore your great wisdom is our only 
resource.” 

“ Bring them to me,” commanded Sophocles. 

And when they were brought he looked at them 
attentively and said, 

“This is Ophelia and this Amelia. Now tie a 
red ribbon about Ophelia’s wrist and put a blue ribbon 
on Amelia, and so long as they wear them you will 
not be troubled to tell them apart.” 

Everyone marvelled greatly that Sophocles should 
know the children better than their own mother, but 
he said to himself, 

“ Since no no one can prove that I am wrong I 
am sure to be right;” and thus he maintained his 
reputation for wisdom. 

In a little side street near the center of Gotham 
lived an old woman named Deborah Smith. Her 
home was a wretched little hut, for she was poor, and 
supported herself and her husband by begging in the 
streets. Her husband was a lazy, short, fat old man, 
who lay upon a ragged blanket in the hut all day and 
refused to work. 

“One beggar in the family is enough,” he used to 
grumble, when his wife upbraided him, “and I am 


[ 2 48 ] 





really too tired to work. So let me alone, my 
Deborah, as I am about to take another nap.” 

Nothing she could say would arouse him to action, 
and she finally allowed him to do as he pleased. 

But one day she met Socrates walking in the street, 
and after watching him for a time made up her mind 
he was nothing more than a fool. Other people cer- 
tainly thought him wise, but she was a shrewd old 
woman, and could see well enough that he merely 
looked wise. The next day she went to the south of 
the city to beg, and there she heard of Sophocles. 
When the people repeated his wise sayings she thought 

“ Here is another fool, for any one could tell as 
much as this man does.” 

Still, she went to see Sophocles, and, dropping a 
penny upon his plate, she asked, 

“Tell me, O wise man, how shall I drive my hus- 
band to work?” 

“By starving him,” answered Sophocles; “if you 
refuse to feed him he must find a way to feed 
himself.” 

“That is true,” she thought, as she went away; 
« but any fool could have' told me that. This wise 
man is a fraud; even my husband is as wise as he.” 

Then she stopped short and slapped her hand 
against her forehead. 

“Why,” she cried, “I will make a Wise Man of 
Perry, my husband, and then he can earn money 
without working!” 


Three 
Wise 
Men of 
Gotham 


[ 24 9 ] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


So she went to her husband and said, 

“ Get up, Perry Smith, and wash yourself; for I 
am going to make a Wise Man of you.” 

“ I won’t,” he replied. 

“You will,” she declared, “for it is the easiest way 
to earn money I have ever discovered.” 

Then she took a stick and beat him so fiercely 
that at last he got up, and agreed to do as she 
said. 

She washed his long beard until it was as white as 
snow, and she shaved his head to make him look bald 
and venerable. Then she brought him a flowing 
black robe with a girdle at the middle; and when he 
was dressed, lo! he looked fully as wise as either 
Socrates or Sophocles. 

“You must have a new name,” she said, “for no 
one will ever believe that Perry Smith is a Wise Man. 
So I shall hereafter call you Pericles, the Wisest Man 
of Gotham! ” 

She then led him into the streets, and to all they 
met she declared, 

“This is Pericles, the wisest man in the world.” 

“What does he know?” they asked. 

“ Everything, and much else,” she replied. 

Then came a carter, and putting a piece of money 
in the hand of Pericles, he enquired, 

“Pray tell me of your wisdom what is wrong 
with my mare?” 

“How should I know?” asked Pericles. 

[250] 


“ I thought you knew everything,” returned the 
carter, in surprise. 

“I do,” declared Pericles; “but you have not 
told me what her symptoms are.” 

“ She refuses to eat anything,” said the carter. 

“Then she is not hungry,” returned Pericles; “for 
neither man nor beast will refuse to eat when hungry.” 

And the people who heard him whispered together 
and said, 

“Surely this is a wise man, for he has told the 
carter what is wrong with his mare.” 

After a few days the fame of Pericles’ sayings came 
to the ears of both Socrates and Sophocles, and they 
resolved to see him, for each feared he would prove 
more wise than they were, knowing themselves to be 
arrant humbugs. So one morning the three wise men 
met together outside the hut of Pericles, and they sat 
themselves down upon stools, facing each other, while 
a great crowd of people gathered around to hear the 
words of wisdom that dropped from their lips. 

But for a time all three were silent, and regarded 
one another anxiously, for each feared he might betray 
himself. 

Finally Sophocles winked his one eye at the others 
and said, in a grave voice, 

“The earth is flat; for, were it round, as some 
fools say, all the people would slide off the surface.” 

Then the people, who had listened eagerly, clapped 
their hands together and murmured, 

[251] 


Three 
Wise 
Men of 
Gotham 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“ Sophocles is wisest of all. What he says is truth.” 

This provoked Socrates greatly, for he felt his 
reputation was in danger; so he said with a frown, 

“The world is shallow, like a dish; were it flat 
the water would all run over the edges, and we should 
have no oceans.” 

Then the people applauded more loudly than 
before, and cried, 

“Socrates is right! he is wisest of all.” 

Pericles, at this, shifted uneasily upon his stool, for 
he knew he must dispute the matter boldly or his 
fame would depart from him. Therefore he said, 
with grave deliberation, 

“You are wrong, my friends. The world is hol- 
low, like the shell of a cocoanut, and we are all inside 
the shell. The sky above us is the roof, and if you 
go out upon the ocean you will come to a place, no 
matter in which direction you go, where the sky and 
the water meet. I know this is true, for I have been 
to sea.” 

The people cheered loudly at this, and said, 

“Long live Pericles, the wisest of the wise men!” 

“I shall hold I am right,” protested Sophocles, 
“until Pericles and Socrates prove that I am wrong.” 

“ That is fair enough,” said the people. 

“And I also shall hold myself to be right until 
they prove me wrong,” declared Socrates, firmly. 

“ I know I am right,” said Pericles, “ for you can- 
not prove me wrong.” 


[252] 


“We can take a boat and sail over the sea,” 
remarked Socrates, “and when we come to the edge 
we will know the truth. Will you go?” 

“Yes,” answered Sophocles; and Pericles, because 
he did not dare refuse, said “Yes” also. 

Then they went to the shore of the sea, and the 
people followed them. There was no boat to be 
found anywhere, for the fishers were all away upon 
the water; but there was a big wooden bowl lying 
upon the shore, which the fishermen used to carry 
their fish to market in. 

“ This will do,” said Pericles, who, because he 
weighed the most, was the greatest fool of the three. 

So the wise men all sat within the bowl, with their 
feet together, and the people pushed them out into 
the water. 

The tide caught the bowl and floated it out to 
sea, and before long the wise men were beyond sight 
of land. 

They were all greatly frightened, for the bowl was 
old and cracked, and the water leaked slowly through 
until their feet were covered. They clung to the 
edge with their hands and looked at one another with 
white faces. Said Pericles, 

“ I was a fool to come to sea in this bowl.” 

“Ah,” remarked Socrates, “if you are a fool, as 
you confess, then you cannot be a wise man.” 

“ No,” answered Pericles, “but I ’ll soon ba*a dead 
man.” 


Three 
Wise 
Men of 
Gotham 


[253] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“I also was a fool,” said Sophocles, who was 
weeping from his one eye and trembling all over, “ for 
if I had stayed upon land I would not have been 
drowned.” 

“ Since you both acknowledge it,” sighed Socrates, 
“ I will confess that I also am a fool, and have always 
been one; but I looked so wise the people insisted I 
must know everything!” 

“Yes, yes,” Sophocles groaned, “the people have 
murdered us!” 

“ My only regret,” said Pericles, “ is that my wife 
is not with me. If only she were here ” — 

He did not finish what he was saying, for just then 
the bowl broke in two. And the people are still wait- 
ing for the three wise men to come back to them. 





Little Bun Rabbit 







i 




















































r 




\. 



















v 










i . 




























✓ 































Little Bun Rabbit 


“Oh, Little Bun Rabbit, so soft and so shy. 

Say, what do you see with your big, round eye?” 

“ On Christmas we rabbits,” says Bunny so shy, 

“ Keep watch to see Santa go galloping by.” 

L ITTLE Dorothy had passed all the few years of 
her life in the country, and being the only 
child upon the farm she was allowed to roam 
about the meadows and woods as she pleased. On 
the bright summer mornings Dorothy’s mother would 
tie a sun-bonnet under the girl’s chin, and then she 
romped away to the fields to amuse herself in her 
own way. 

She came to know every flower that grew, and to 
call them by name, and she always stepped very care- 
fully to avoid treading on them, for Dorothy was a 
kind-hearted child and did not like to crush the 
pretty flowers that bloomed in her path. And she 
was also very fond of all the animals, and learned to 
know them well, and even to understand their lan- 
guage, which very few people can do. And the 
animals loved Dorothy in turn, for the word passed, 
around amongst them that she could be trusted to do 
them no harm. For the horse, whose soft nose 
t 2 S7] 


Little 

Bun 

Rabbit 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


Dorothy often gently stroked, told the cow of her 
kindness, and the cow told the dog, and the dog told 
the cat, and the cat tol,d her black kitten, and the 
black kitten told the rabbit when one day they met 
in the turnip patch. 

Therefore when the rabbit, which is the most timid 
of all animals and the most difficult to get acquainted 
with, looked out of a small bush at the edge of the 
wood one day and saw Dorothy standing a little way 
off, he did not scamper away, as is his custom, but sat 
very still and met the gaze of her sweet eyes boldly, 
although perhaps his heart beat a little faster than 
usual. 

Dorothy herself was afraid she might frighten him 
away, so she kept very quiet for a time, leaning 
silently against a tree and smiling encouragement at 
her timorous companion until the rabbit became re- 
assured and blinked his big eyes at her thoughtfully. 
For he was as much interested in the little girl as she 
in him, since it was the first time he had dared to 
meet a person face to face. 

Finally Dorothy ventured to speak, so she asked, 
very softly and slowly, 

“Oh, Little Bun Rabbit, so soft and so shy. 

Say, what do you see with your big, round eye?” 

“Many things,” answered the rabbit, who was 
pleased to hear the girl speak in his own language; 
“in summer-time I see the clover-leaves that I love 
[258] 


to feed upon and the cabbages at the end of the 
farmer’s garden. I see the cool bushes where I can 
hide from my enemies, and I see the dogs and the 
men long before they can see me, or know that I am 
near, and therefore I am able tq keep out of their 
way.” 

“Is that the reason your eyes are so big?” asked 
Dorothy. 

“I suppose so,” returned the rabbit; “you see we 
have only our eyes and our ears and our legs to 
defend ourselves with. We cannot fight, but we can 
always run away, and that is a much better way to 
save our lives than by fighting.” 

“Where is your home, bunny?” enquired the girl. 

“ I live in the ground, far down in a cool, pleasant 
hole I have dug in the midst of the forest. At the 
bottom of the hole is the nicest little room you can 
imagine, and there I have made a soft bed to rest in 
at night. When I meet an enemy I run to my hole 
and jump in, and there I stay until all danger is over.” 

“You have told me what you see in summer,” 
continued Dorothy, who was greatly interested in the 
rabbit’s account of himself, “ but what do you see in 
the winter?” 

“In winter we -rabbits,” said Bunny so shy, 

“Keep watch to see Santa go galloping by.” 

“And do you ever see him?” asked the girl, 
eagerly. 


Little 

Bun 

Rabbit 


i >59] 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


“Oh, yes; every winter. I am not afraid of him, 
nor of his reindeer. And it is such fun to see him 
come dashing along, cracking his whip and calling out 
cheerily to his reindeer, who are able to run even 
swifter than we rabbits. And Santa Claus, when he 
sees me, always gives me a nod and a smile, and then 
I look after him and his big load of toys which he is 
carrying to the children, until he has galloped away 
out of sight. I like to see the toys, for they are so 
bright and pretty, and every year there is something 
new amongst them. Once I visited Santa, and saw 
him make the toys.” 

“Oh, tell me about it!” pleaded Dorothy. 

“ It was one morning after Christmas,” said the 
rabbit, who seemed to enjoy talking, now that he had 
overcome his fear of Dorothy, “ and I was sitting by 
the road-side when Santa Claus came riding back in 
his empty sleigh. He does not come home quite so 
fast as he goes, and when he saw me he stopped for a 
word. 

“‘You look very pretty this morning, Bun Rab- 
bit,’ he said, in his jolly way; ‘I think the babies 
would love to have you to play with.’ 

“ ‘ I do n’t doubt it, your honor,’ I answered; ‘ but 
they ’d soon kill me with handling, even if they did 
not scare me to death; for babies are very rough with 
their playthings.’ 

“‘That is true,’ replied Santa Claus; ‘and yet 
you are so soft and pretty it is a pity the babies can’t 

[ 260 ] 


have you. Still, as they would abuse a live rabbit I 
think I shall make them some toy rabbits, which they 
cannot hurt; so if you will jump into my sleigh with 
me and ride home to my castle for a few days, I ’ll see 
if I can’t make some toy rabbits just like you.’ 

“ Of course I consented, for we all like to please 
old Santa, and a minute later I had jumped into the 
sleigh beside him and we were dashing away at full 
speed toward his castle. I enjoyed the ride very 
much, but I enjoyed the castle far more; for it was 
one of the loveliest places you could imagine. It 
stood on the top of a high mountain and is built of 
gold and silver bricks, and the windows are pure dia- 
mond crystals. The rooms are big and high, and 
there is a soft carpet upon every floor and many 
strange things scattered around to amuse one. Santa 
Claus lives there all alone, except for old Mother 
Hubbard, who cooks the meals for him; and her cup- 
board is never bare now, I can promise you ! At the 
top of the castle there is one big room, and that is 
Santa’s work-shop, where he makes the toys. On one 
side is his work-bench, with plenty of saws and ham- 
mers and jack-knives; and on another side is the 
paint-bench, with paints of every color and brushes of 
every size and shape. And in other places are great 
shelves, where the toys are put to dry and keep new 
and bright until Christmas comes and it is time to 
load them all into his sleigh. 

“After Mother Hubbard had given me a good 
[261] 


Little 

Bun 

Rabbit 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


dinner, and I had eaten some of the most delicious 
clover I have ever tasted, Santa took me up into his 
work-room and sat me upon the table. 

“ ‘ If I can only make rabbits half as nice as you 
are,’ he said, ‘ the little ones will be delighted.’ Then 
he lit a big pipe and began to smoke, and soon he 
took a roll of soft fur from a shelf in a corner and 
commenced to cut it out in the shape of a rabbit. 
He smoked and whistled all the time he was working, 
and he talked to me in such a jolly way that I sat 
perfectly still and allowed him to measure my ears 
and my legs so that he could cut the fur into the 
proper form. 

“ ‘Why, I ’ve got your nose too long, Bunny,’ he 
said once; and so he snipped a little off the fur he 
was cutting, so that the toy rabbit’s nose should be 
like mine. And again he said, ‘ Good gracious ! the 
ears are too short entirely ! ’ So he had to get a 
needle and thread and sew on more fur to the ears, so 
that they might be the right size. But after a time it 
was all finished, and then he stuffed the fur full of 
sawdust and sewed it up neatly; after which he put 
in some glass eyes that made the toy rabbit look won- 
derfully life-like. When it was all done he put it on 
the table beside me, and at first I did n’t know 
whether I was the live rabbit or the toy rabbit, we 
were so much alike. 

“ ‘ It ’s a very good job,’ said Santa, nodding his 
head at us pleasantly; ‘and I shall have to make a 
[ 262 ] 


lot of these rabbits, for the little children are sure to 
be greatly pleased with them.’ 

“ So he immediately began to make another, and 
this time he cut the fur just the right size, so that it 
was even better than the first rabbit. 

“ ‘ I must put a squeak in it,’ said Santa. 

“ So he took a box of squeaks from a shelf and 
put one into the rabbit before he sewed it up. 
When it was all finished he pressed the toy rabbit 
with his thumb, and it squeaked so naturally that 
I jumped off the table, fearing at first the new rab- 
bit was alive. Old Santa laughed merrily at this, 
and I soon recovered from my fright and was 
pleased to think the babies were to have such pretty 
playthings. 

“ ‘ After this,’ said Santa Claus, ‘ I can make 
rabbits without having you for a pattern; but if you 
like you may stay a few days longer in my castle and 
amuse yourself.’ 

“ I thanked him and decided to stay. So for 
several days I watched him making all kinds of toys, 
and I wondered to see how quickly he made them, 
and how many new things he invented. 

“ ‘ I almost wish I was a child,’ I said to him one 
day, ‘ for then I too could have playthings.’ 

“ ‘ Ah, you can run about all day, in summer and 
in winter, and enjoy yourself in your own way,’ said 
Santa; ‘but the poor little children are obliged to 
stay in the house in the winter and on rainy days in 
[263] 


Little 

Bun 

Rabbit 


Mother 
Goose 
in Prose 


the summer, and then they must have toys to amuse 
them and keep them contented.’ 

« I knew this was true, so I only said, admiringly, 

“‘You must be the quickest and the best work- 
man in all the world, Santa.’ 

“‘I suppose I am,’ he answered; ‘but then, you 
see, I have been making toys for hundreds of years, 
and I make so many it is no wonder I am skillful. 
And now, if you are ready to go home, I ’ll hitch up 
the reindeer and take you back again.’ 

“ ‘ Oh, no,’ said I, ‘ I prefer to run by myself, for 
I can easily find the way and I want to see the 
country.’ 

“ ‘ If that is the case,’ replied Santa, ‘ I must give 
you a magic collar to wear, so that you will come to 
no harm.’ 

“ So, after Mother Hubbard had given me a good 
meal of turnips and sliced cabbage, Santa Claus put 
the magic collar around my neck and I started for 
home. I took my time on the journey, for I knew 
nothing could harm me, and I saw a good many 
strange sights before I got back to this place again.” 

“But what became of the magic collar?” asked 
Dorothy, who had listened with breathless interest to 
the rabbit’s story. 

“After I got home,” replied the rabbit, “the 
collar disappeared from around my neck, and I knew 
Santa had called it back to himself again. He did 
not give it to me, you see; he merely let me take it 

C 26 4] 


on my journey to protect me. The next Christmas, 
when I watched by the road-side to see Santa, I was 
pleased to notice a great many of the toy rabbits 
sticking out of the loaded sleigh. The babies must 
have liked them, too, for every year since I have seen 
them amongst the toys. 

“ Santa never forgets me, and every time he passes 
he calls out, in his jolly voice, 

“‘A merry Christmas to you, Bun Rabbit! The 
babies still love you dearly.’ ” 

The Rabbit paused, and Dorothy was just about to 
ask another question when Bunny raised his head and 
seemed to hear something coming. 

“What is it?” enquired the girl. 

“ It ’s the farmer’s big shepherd dog,” answered the 
Rabbit, “ and I must be going before he sees me, or I 
shall shall have to run for my life. So good bye, 
Dorothy; I hope we shall meet again, and then I will 
gladly tell you more of my adventures.” 

The next instant he had sprung into the wood, 
and all that Dorothy could see of him was a gray 
streak darting in and out amongst the trees. 


Little 

Bun 

Rabbit 


[2 65] 





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